Enigma
by xxxheartlandxxx14
Summary: She was the spark that lit the flames of rebellion. We were the ones that kept it going. Slight AU.
1. Part One

**_Part One_**

Notice me cause I've been here all along

I've been waiting

Since you sang me your song

It's our moment to turn things around

And show them something

With nothing, with nothing

And now our star-crossed love has materialized

We've locked our father right here, right now

Just one kiss and I will be hooked to her fire

Her flames are surrounding me now

As we watch as they light up the sky

We must stand up and fight

Cause this love is not a game to me

We'll survive

And start an uprising

You can ignite (you can ignite)

Stand and fight (stand and fight)

Don't cave in (don't cave in)

So Let the Games begin

\- Arshad "Girl on Fire"


	2. Chapter One

**T** he Hunger Games were undoubtedly the bane of everyone's existence. It was almost Reaping Day, and that meant the 74th Hunger Games. At least these games would be standard; it was the Quarter Quell that you'd really have to worry about. I fidgeted on the bed, glancing down at the streets of District 3. As per usual, the streets were void of any activity; the adults were in factories or research plants making technology for the Capitol. The kids were off learning from their mentors, so that when they were older they would have a job. Then there were the kids like me; the ones who were more or less preparing for the Hunger Games. I was in no way skilled with weapons, but with Reaping Day coming up, I had made sure that I knew how to read body language, how to be persuasive, and of course I had brushed up on my technology skills. I could make a hydrogen bomb from some plastic and wires. It's not really a bomb, not quite; it uses electricity to break apart water molecules into hydrogen and oxygen. Then it uses a spark of electricity to explosively recombine the gases into high pressure steam, which propels a stream of water high into the air.

Basically, it was a water gun. But, if I engineered it just right I'm sure that I could make something dangerous out of it. I wrapped my arms around my legs, staring unseeingly at the gray streets below me. If I got picked for the Hunger Games, I didn't want to die. Not right off the bat anyways. I leaned against the unsteady wooden walls of our house another sigh escaping my lips. The Hunger Games were barbaric, there was no doubt about it, and if we had a choice I was certain we wouldn't participate. But that was just the point, wasn't it? We didn't have a choice. We had to participate.

I scratched at my arm. The door to my bedroom creaked open, and Bran stuck his head in a mischievous look in his green eyes. Bran was my older brother by two years, and I adored him, but his scheming often got us in trouble.

"What do you want Bran?" I sighed, looking at him tiredly.

"What do you mean, what do I want?" Bran asked, looking affronted. "Mom, told me to come and get you Larka. She said she wanted to talk to you about Reaping Day." He shrugged, "I dunno why though."

I sighed, climbing to her feet. "Probably hoping that I don't misbehave," I grumbled walking down the stairs with Bran closely shadowing me. I glanced over my shoulder, "You don't have to follow me, Bran. I'm sure I can find Mom on my own."

"Oh, but I do dear sister, because you my lovely little peach are a bit of a troublemaker." He cooed, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "Plus, Reaping Day is tomorrow and who knows if this is the last time we'll see each other?" He frowned, his arm tightening around my shoulders. "Let's be honest Larka-dear, you show the most potential for a victor District 3 has seen in years. You'll probably get picked."

"I know," I grumbled, shoving at him. "I really don't need you reminding me of that."

"Sorry, sorry," he whispered pressing his lips against the crown of my head. "I just worry about you Larka, you're my little sister."

"I appreciate it," I mumbled, walking into the kitchen.

Bran gave me a quick squeeze before heading out of the house; I assumed that he was going to one of the technology centers to help Beetee out. I watched him go, and once he was out of my line of sight turned my gaze to my Mom who was watching me a sorrowed look in her gray eyes. She combed her fingers through the darkly curly mess that was my hair and smiled soothingly at me.

"This is your last year to be Reaped, isn't it?" She murmured.

I shrugged, "Maybe."

She frowned, "Larka."

"Sorry," I apologized rocking back on my heels. "I think it is, but I'm not too sure. The Reaping rules have never really made much sense to me."

Her eyes softened, "That's because you are your father's daughter. The Reaping rules never made much sense to him, either. You both rely too much on logic."

I shrugged, a bashful smile on my face. I didn't see anything wrong with that; as a member of District 3, one could even argue that it was exceptionally useful. We were the technology district, we manufactured, invented and engineered things; I'd say that to do that one would obviously need logic. But maybe, Mom was saying that like my father, I looked too deep into things and what should be easy, I made too complicated.

"Oh, my dear sweet girl," she crooned wrapping her arms around me.

I laughed, hugging her back. "Don't worry, so much Mama." I smiled, pecking her on the cheek quickly. "The likelihood of being Reaped is about .001%, I think." I frowned, "That doesn't sound quite right. Let's see…" I tapped my finger against my chin as I thought. "There's about how many slips of paper? Three kids of eighteen who don't apply for tesserae, so that's…Twenty-one. Plus six seventeen-year-olds…" The frown on my face deepened. "There's about 234 slips total, so to split that in half for boys and girls that'd be 117 each. So the likelihood then of me being picked is .051%, isn't it? Since not a lot of people get tesserae."

Mom laughed, ruffling my hair and pulling me closer to her. "The statistics you provided don't alleviate my fears very much, Larka. Even .051% is still too high. I'd prefer if it was nothing."

"It can only be nothing once I'm nineteen," I mumbled. "I think." I turned to her with a grin, "Still, the odds are pretty low. I wouldn't worry much." I shrugged, "If I get picked, I get picked. There's no use in getting worked up about it."

"You've grown up a lot my little lark," Mom whispered, her arms tightening around me. "Since when did you get so mature and levelheaded?"

"I don't know," I smiled playfully. "Probably after Bran tried to make a bomb out a watermelon, while I was trying to create cheaper, more efficient ways for electricity."

She shoved me, "Go read. Honestly, the two of you are so much trouble."

The next morning, the lighthearted atmosphere that had enveloped the house had been replaced by a sense of dread. Bran was unusually silent, and Mama was already close to tears. I tried to comfort them as best as I could, but it honestly didn't do that good. The nice dress that Mama had made me wear, made me feel like a lamb ready to go to the slaughter. My fingers clenched in the fabric of the skirt, and I startled when Bran grabbed my hand. This was how it always was on Reaping Day; nerves and wariness, dread and happiness. The happiness only come from the families who didn't have someone Reaped, but underneath that all there was still an underlying sadness for the families who did have someone chosen.

Bran squeezed my hand, a soft look in his green eyes – eyes that I shared – and I squeezed back, managing somehow to make my lips curl into a smile. He released me and I headed to the seventeen-year-old age group. The air was hot and sweltering, made all the worse by the bodies crowding around me. Looking around I thought that perhaps I had underestimated the number of slips, which would put the odds of me being picked a lot lower than I had estimated. Our escort was named something stupid like Sugar Greenpath (or something like that) and as usual, was dressed ostentatiously like all Capitol residents. Her hair was bright pink like cotton candy (something I had only read about in books) and her clothes were bright and flashy.

When she spoke, her voice was soft and lilting, yet at the same time a little annoying. "Let's go with ladies first!" She ruffled around in the glass ball, pulling out a name slip. Her painted orange lips pulled into a smile, "Larka Everhill!"

Behind me I could hear my Mom screaming, and Bran yelling. But I didn't react. I just moved toward the stage, crossing my arms over my chest once I was standing beside Sugar. She sent me another smile, a smile that I could only believe was fake, and rummaged through the glass ball containing the boy's slips.

"Micro Fairfall!"

A small, dark-haired boy stumbled forward. While he looked young, I guessed that he had to actually be around fifteen or sixteen. I frowned, watching him as he ascended the steps onto the stage. He wasn't much to look at, but then again neither was I. I was a little tall, had a fair amount of muscle, but in no way, did I look like a winning tribute. We shook hands and then we were escorted into the government building behind us where our friends and family would get to say goodbye to us. I paced the confines of the small room waiting for Mama and Bran to arrive. The door open and they both shot in; I paid little attention to the Peacekeeper as he told us how much time we had left together.

"I thought you said the odds were low!" Bran huffed, hugging me.

"Guess, I miscalculated." I mumbled, burying my face in his shoulder and trying to fight off my own tears.

"Evidently," he growled.

Mama was holding onto the both of us, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Don't argue you two!" She sniffled, "This might be the last time you see your sister alive, Bran."

"Then he might as well argue with me," I said flippantly. Her eyes narrowed at me in a glare and I shrunk away from her. "Or not."

Bran managed a shaky, watery laugh. "God, Larka I hope you aren't this mouthy once you get to the Capitol. If you are, you're going to get eaten alive."

"Eh, they wouldn't like me anyways. Not enough meat on my bones," I shrugged still trying to keep up the façade that I was okay with this and hiding that internally I was dying inside.

Unfortunately, Mama and Bran were entirely too adept at reading me, and my mask crumbled. Tears welled up in my eyes and I hurriedly tried to scrub them away. Bran cooed softly, crushing me to his chest and whispering soothing words in my ears. While they alleviated my fear right now, I knew that his words wouldn't stick.

"Get to the Cornucopia, grab a bag and then get the hell out of there," Bran told me hoarsely. "Don't engage anyone. If you see someone coming after you, get out of there. They aren't worth your life." His entire body was shaking as he held me, and I tried to get closer to my older brother, my safe haven. "Avoid the Careers. They'll take you out in a heartbeat, you know that." He rested his chin on my head, rocking us back and forth. "Try to rig up a trap…Use your brain, Larka. That's going to be your biggest advantage."

I nodded against his chest, absorbing his words and promising myself that I would remember them. Then the Peacekeepers came in and ripped them away from me, leaving me in the room by myself. I don't know how long I was alone – probably not very long – and then the Peacekeepers came back, escorting me to the train that would take us to the Capitol. I crawled onto one of the plushy seats, curling and trying to make myself as small as possible. Micro, my partner, sat at the table tentatively nibbling on a croissant.

My stomach rumbled in protest but I made no move to get up, not even when Beetee and Wiress appeared. Beetee's eyes as they always were, were sympathetic and kind. Underneath that was something that I couldn't identify but I didn't look too hard into it. Wiress was mumbling something under her breath that I couldn't hear, and Beetee whispered to her in low, comforting tones calming the other Victor down. Wiress sat down at the table, across from Micro but didn't outwardly acknowledge.

"I'll be mentoring both of you," Beetee murmured. "What skills do the two of you have?"

"The usual," I spoke up causing Beetee and Micro to look at me. "What? It's true. We're skilled at technology but beyond that we're useless with weapons." Grudgingly, Micro nodded in confirmation with my words. "See?" I said pointing at him. "We're going to get torn apart, aren't we Beetee?"

"No, you aren't," Beetee said sharply. "Unless you continue to have that attitude, Larka." I flushed, looking away from him. "We'll talk more later." He sighed, shaking his head. "If you are thirsty, there's a drinking car but I'd be wary. There may be other tributes there."

Micro shook his head, "I think I'll stay here."

I rose to my feet, "I'm a little thirsty, actually. Where is it, Beetee?"

I wasn't exactly eager to run into any other tributes, but I also didn't want to stay here any longer. More than anything I just wanted a drink, preferably something alcoholic to sate my nerves until we got to the Capitol. Which, it seemed would take quite a while if we were picking up other tributes. I slipped into the drink car, stumbling slightly and made my way over to the bar. The first thing I noticed was that I wasn't alone.

There were four other tributes here, a blonde girl, a tall tribute (six-foot-one, I'd estimate) with brown hair and green eyes, a much smaller dark-haired girl with a sadistic gleam in her dark eyes as she stared at me, and a much taller male with blond hair and icy blue eyes. He easily towered over everyone in the car, but the other boy was around his height. My eyes darted around the room nervously, as I grabbed a glass of Scotch from the bartender. Clearly, the tall blond male was the alpha of their little Career group. His eyes landed on me, icy cold and I flinched away from him my cheeks flushing a little when his lips twitched into a smirk.

"Are you lost?" he teased me, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

"Nope," I answered, downing the alcohol quickly. "Just thirsty, and I was told that this was the drinking car."

He arched a blond brow, "It is. But what makes you think you can come in here?" He crossed his burly arms over his muscular chest, and I almost rolled my eyes.

He was very clearly trying to intimidate me. "I wasn't aware that I needed your permission…" I hesitated and then smiled, "Two."

His eyes briefly widened, "How'd you know he wasn't from Two?" He jerked his head toward the only other male in the car.

"Easy," I chirped, grabbing a bottle of water. I turned back around to see him eyeing me curiously, obviously waiting for an answer. "He doesn't look the part."

An amused glint flashed through his eyes before he quickly smothered it. "Really," he drawled.

"Mm-hm," I nodded. I skirted around the bar, running my eyes over the four Career tributes. "Just like blondie is from One, and the dark-haired one is also from Two," I said pointing at the two girls in question. "No offense, but she looks too soft to be in Two," I continued my eyes on the blonde girl. I was quite aware that I was possibly digging myself a hole that I would have no hope of getting out of, but if I said the right things I could keep Two's interest on me, which would help me in the long run. "But, she," I pointed at the dark-haired girl who was watching me with interest, "looks deadly. I bet she uses knives, right?" There was a slight glimmer of surprise and grudging respect in her eyes as she continued to stare at me. "Told you, it was easy to figure out." Those words I directed toward Two, who was now smirking.

"Interesting," he mumbled his voice husky. "And what about me?"

I edged closer to the door, "Hm?"

"Don't play stupid Three, it doesn't fit you," Two snarled moving toward me, almost faster than I could track. I found myself pressed against the wall by the door, his body caging me in. My heart thundered in my chest, and it was so loud that I briefly wondered if he could hear it. "You figured out all that about those two, and now I'm wondering about me. Don't make me spell it out again."

I swallowed, turning my head away from him finding that he was entirely too close for my comfort. My brief façade of bravery and confidence faded now that I was cornered by him. He reached up, tugging at a lock of my hair and my cheeks flushed bright red.

"I already told you that you're from Two, I don't know what else you want me to say," I murmured, shying away as he leaned closer to me, his breath fanning over my skin.

"Pity," he mumbled.

I was glad when he backed away from me, yet at the same time some part of me – an insane part, I would guess – craved his touch. It was illogical and stupid, especially since in a week or two we'd be in the arena. This was a stupid attraction, I concluded slipping out of the car with the Careers in it, and I couldn't allow it to get the best of me. If I did, I'd end up dead during the first day. Beetee escorted Micro and I to the car exclusive for District 3 – if you weren't affiliated with the District you couldn't get into the rooms – and once he was gone, I curled up on the bed mind spinning and fighting back tears.

I was going to die in the arena. I just knew it. _At least I knew who would be my killer,_ I thought morbidly.

Two.


	3. Chapter Two

**A** rriving at the Capitol was a jarring experience I realized. Most of the citizens were exactly like Sugar, which in other words meant that I couldn't stand them. But, I also wasn't stupid, I knew that I needed their support to keep me alive in the arena as long as possible. So, I pretended that I loved them and that I enjoyed the attention, and that I didn't think they were complete imbeciles. It made my skin crawl and my stomach roll to do so, but the Capitol's support would be the only thing keeping me alive in the arena. Sugar, led Micro and I over to our stylists for the chariot ride that would more or less introduce us to the Capitol before we started training.

They scrubbed until my skin was raw, and then they practically rid my body of all hair except the hair on top of my head and then they called in the head stylist. I watched her warily as she entered the room. Compared to all of the other Capitol citizens I had seen, she looked positively normal. She was tall, lithe, dark burgundy hair and unnerving silver eyes but more normal than any other looks I had seen around the Capitol.

"My name is Palla," she said. "Hush," she snapped when I moved to speak. "I don't like you or your attitude and I detest this job." She rolled her eyes, "But I like you more than Cato or his bitch of a partner, so I'm going to make sure you look beautiful, so you can get more sponsors and crush them in the arena." Her eyes narrowed at me, "Understood?"

I watched her warily, and then nodded sharply. Palla, it seemed detested the Capitol even more than I did, and I wondered why. It wasn't a question that I could ask her, and I wasn't even sure if I truly wanted to know the reason why. I watched her carefully as she put makeup on my face. Getting on her bad side would be stupid and unwise, I decided. I needed to get on her good side, I just didn't know how to.

I stayed silent and immobile as Palla dressed me, and curled my hair. She placed a necklace around my neck and a circle in my hair, and then rested her cool hands on my bare shoulders turning me around to face the mirror. My eyes widened, and I quickly did my best to mask my shock. From the amused smile dancing on Palla's lips, I would say that I didn't succeed. The girl in the mirror didn't look like me; I knew that it was me, but it didn't look like me. I was used to wearing tattered clothes, dirt and oil smudged over my features and my unruly hair always piled into a messy bun on the top of my head.

It was hard for me to process that the girl I was seeing in the mirror was me. The sheer, silver gossamer dress floated whimsically around my small frame. The sheerness of the fabric exposed the skin of my stomach, which made me a little uncomfortable but if it would get Capitol attention on me, I'd take it. The silver gown highlighted my pale skin and dark hair, and my hair was further highlighted by the twisting silver circlet adorning my head.

"I look beautiful," I whispered. Then I glanced at Palla, "But somehow I think you have a trick up your sleeve. This can't be enough, because every other tribute will be dressed just as beautifully."

Palla smiled the first real, full smile I had seen since she came into the room. "Good intuition," she said. "You'll need that during the Games," she smiled. "As for the dress," her smile widened, "well look for yourself."

I turned back to the mirror, my eyes widening. I was _glowing_. Or rather, the dress was. It must have light sewn into the fabric, I realized twisting and looking at every inch of the dress which danced the colors of the rainbow. Red to orange to yellow, then green to blue to purple, and purple to pink to silver to black, before starting all over again at red. It looked a little busy, but it would gain attention and that was all I really needed to survive.

Palla led me to the chariot, and I was pleased to see that Micro's suit was in sync with the dress and crown that I was wearing. Then, the procession began. Of course, the tributes from District 1 were dressed in the finest silks and furs, and the Capitol roared for them. The roar grew louder, when the District 2 tributes chariot rolled forward exposing the naked chest of the boy and the warrior-like beauty of the girl. Then Micro and I rolled forward. The Capitol were cheering and gasping, oohing and whispering. I looked at the back of Two's chariot with a smirk, and then turned a winning smile to the crowd waving. I was trying to play the crowd, and get them to remember us. If only I had known that we would be forgotten as soon as it was Twelve's turn.

The amazement of the Capitol died once they got to District 5, and I was confident that Micro and I would at least be remembered. Our outfits would surely ensure that. Until District 12 rolled in, and were on fire. I gritted my teeth, as a hush spread and then the Capitol began roaring even loud and all I could hear or see around me were exclamations and looks directed toward Twelve. I gritted my teeth, crossing my arms over my chest – reminiscent of a pouty child I later realized – as we headed back to our stylists. Palla's expression as we neared was cross, but I knew that it wasn't directed at me. She helped me undress, and got me in a new pair of clothes. Affectionately, she squeezed my shoulder before I followed Beetee to the elevator where we would head up to our residency.

Beetee rested his hand on the small of my back, herding Micro and I into the elevator. I inhaled sharply, my eyes darting around nervously when I saw that we weren't alone. Brutus and Enobaria – Victors from Two – were there as well, and that meant their tributes were too. The dark-haired girl wasn't paying any attention to us at all, instead choosing to stare at the floor as the elevator slowly rose. The boy, however, was staring at me a light in his eyes that I didn't like at all, and in fact made me cagey.

"These are your tributes?" Enobaria murmured, looking at Beetee. "They don't look like much."

A hot flush crawled up my neck and into my cheeks, and Two raised a brow watching me with something akin to amusement in his eyes.

Beetee smiled cordially, "I assure you Enobaria, that they will surprise you. Right, Larka?"

I looked up at him, startled that he had addressed me. Then I grinned, "Sure will, Beetee."

He ruffled my hair and I ducked away from him, accidentally knocking into Micro. He scowled, shifting away from me but I just shrugged unapologetically. Beetee sighed, an arm going around my shoulders and tugging me into his side.

Enobaria frowned, "Well no matter how capable you think they are, they won't measure up to our tributes." She smiled, flashing her sharp teeth, "Especially with one as unruly as her. Cato could take her down in a heartbeat."

My eyes darted toward Two. So, that was his name. It suited him, I thought eyeing him speculatively. Enboaria glanced sharply toward him, and he crossed his arms.

"Yeah," he uttered his voice and attitude at complete odds with how he was on the train.

I looked between him and Enobaria curiously, and then realized why. He knew his place; here he was just a tribute, but Enobaria was a Victor so she held all the power. He realized that, and he knew that if he wanted her to help him, he needed to stay on her good side. Smart. Maybe, Two – Cato – wasn't as dumb as I thought he was. The elevator stopped at their floor and they hurriedly got out. Then we continued up to our floor.

Stepping into the main living space, it suddenly sunk in that I was in the Hunger Games and that soon the Games would begin and I would be fighting for my life. My throat closed up, and I felt my eyes well with tears, blurring my vision. I fought them down, determined not to show anyone even my mentor and District partner any weaknesses.

"We'll talk strategies tomorrow morning," Beetee told us. "For now, rest. You'll begin training tomorrow."

We nodded, heading to the rooms. I found it hard to fall asleep, and even when I did it was a restless one. Waking up in the morning, I felt exhausted and irritated and we hadn't even started training yet. I stumbled into the dining room, still half asleep and sat at the table unsurprised to see that I was the last one up. I had always known that Beetee was an early riser, and I had assumed that Wiress was too. It was a little surprising that Micro and Palla were both up before me, but I supposed that it couldn't be help. I chewed carefully at the pancakes and bacon, my eyes locked on Beetee who was carefully avoiding looking at Micro or me.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked, taking a sip of orange juice. Beetee looked at me curiously, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what I was talking about. "Strategy? For the Games or for training, I don't care which."

"The two of you need to get close to the Careers," Beetee said. "It's the most logical course of action, because the Careers will be able to help you stay alive longer." He sighed, "From this point onward though I won't be overseeing your training. Aven Forrest, you've heard of him I presume, will be taking over my duties as your mentor."

"Victor of the 72nd Games, isn't he?" I mumbled. "He was eighteen when he was chosen, and no one expected him to win. But he did."

"Yes." Beetee confirmed with a nod. "I wish that I could be there for you, for the both of you, but for now it is not possible. I am needed by President Snow and Wiress is heading back to District 3."

"So, we get Aven," I said. Micro looked a little disheartened and angry, so I tried to soften the blow. "At least we still get a mentor."

"Yeah, one who will write me off and focus only on you," Micro spat. He stood up, "I'm not hungry anymore."

I watched him go, a small frown on my face. As much as I hated to say it, there was some truth to his words. Even though Beetee tried to hide it, it was clear that I was the favored tribute among District 3 and Micro was being written off. I felt bad for him, but there wasn't anything that I could do about it, and it would be silly and stupid of me to encourage them to favor him over me. I needed every advantage I could get, even if it seemed unfair. I just wanted to survive. That didn't make me a bad person, and it didn't mean that I wanted him to die but I wanted a chance too.

"I hope you know he's going to double-cross me," I blurted. "You said we should make friends the Careers. I have a feeling, that he's going to try and turn them against me."

"I'm sorry," Beetee apologized. "Go get changed, and head down to training. If you're lucky maybe you can corner them before he can."

"You don't corner the Careers, rather they're likely to corner you," I threw out as I headed to my room to change into training clothes.

When I came back out, Micro was impatiently waiting by the door with Palla. I was surprised that he hadn't left yet, and then realized that Beetee or Palla had likely said something to him and tried to reinforce that the two of us were teammates not enemies. We entered the elevator silently; in fact, the entire walk to the training center was silent between the two of us. When we entered the training center and the Careers' eyes flashed to us, I knew it was a silence that did not go unnoticed. A smirk played on Cato's lips as he eyed the two of us, like a lion eyeing a gazelle and I looked away from him pondering which station that I should try first. It was clear to me now, that Micro wouldn't be of any help.

Atala, the head trainer, explained the stations (not that I was paying much attention) and once she was finished, we were dismissed. I looked around awkwardly for a few moments, noticing that the Careers had headed to the weapons stations and unfortunately my District partner was shadowing them. He was trying to remain unnoticed but, I knew that they were aware of him. How could they not be? Cato glanced over his shoulder a frown on his face as he eyed Micro. He hefted up a spear, throwing it and I saw Micro noticeably flinch as it impaled the training dummy right where the heart would be. Cato's eyes met mine, and he quirked a brow.

I bit my lip, turning away from him and heading to the fire building station. I couldn't take shelter in the Cornucopia, that safe haven was meant for the Careers and during the night it would get cold. In the event that I didn't have a blanket, a fire would be next best option. I spent a considerable amount of time at the fire station until I was certain I was a pro at it and then moved onto the snares and knot tying. It was hard, more difficult than I had anticipated anyways, but in the end, it would help keep me alive. Like the fire, I spent a lot of time at these stations and then I moved on to edible plants and insects. To my surprise the girl from Twelve and her partner were already there, and at first, they paid little attention to me. But then the girl glanced up, saw me and narrowed her eyes. She said something in a quiet voice to her partner before leaving the station and heading somewhere else.

I ducked my head, flushing as my fingers fumbled with one of the knots for a snare. My eyes darted up, looking at the boy from Twelve. He certainly didn't look intimidating, but his frame and muscular build made him appear so.

"I'm Peeta," he said abruptly, extending a hand.

Hesitantly I shook it, "Larka, District 3. You're from District 12, aren't you?" He nodded. "I thought I recognized her. I only saw a brief recap of your Reapings, and honestly I wasn't paying a lot of attention."

"That's fine," he shrugged with a carefree smile that had me warming up to him. "It makes it easier to blend in, and surprise everyone later, right?"

"I suppose," I hummed, tying the final knot in my snare. "But it makes it more dangerous too. You want to be well-know so you can get sponsors. That's going to help you survive."

"And what about you, are you trying to be well-known?" Peeta asked a searching look in his clear eyes.

"To the Capitol, yes. To everyone else here, and the Careers, no," I murmured, my voice quiet. I glanced over my shoulder at the Careers who were watching Peeta and I with interest; at their side, I could see my District partner hovering nervously beside them and glaring at me. I turned back to Peeta, "But it's hard. I want to be unnoticed but still, people notice me anyways."

"Maybe it's cause your pretty," He said, smiling adorably.

A flush crawled up to my cheeks and I ducked my head. "No one's ever called me pretty before, unless my brother counts," I whispered but I knew that he heard me. I looked at Peeta, setting the third snare I had completed down. "It was nice talking to you, Peeta."

"You too, Larka."

I moved to the shelter-making station next, all too aware of Cato's eyes on me. Honestly, I couldn't understand why he wouldn't leave me alone. The encounter had just been that, an encounter and him trying to display dominance as the alpha of the Career pack even though I wasn't even part of their damned alliance. I couldn't fathom his interest in me; it didn't make sense. I was a girl from District 3, and potentially could be an ally but I didn't understand why he would bother when my teammate was practically throwing himself at the Careers. I shook my head banishing him from my thoughts and concentrated on learning how to make a shelter. This one took me quite a while, and it was nearly lunchtime by the time I finished with it.

I rocked back on my heels looking around the training center and then up at the clock. Thirty minutes until lunchtime. I frowned. I didn't have enough time to learn a weapons skill or any other survival skill, but I couldn't just stand here wasting time either. Maybe I should look for potential allies; Beetee had encouraged Micro and I to ally with the Careers, but if they had Micro they wouldn't need me. That left me with any of the other Districts, except Twelve. Peeta was nice, but his District partner wasn't fond of me and I couldn't ask him to choose between her and me, that wasn't fair.

"Something wrong?" a voice purred in my ear, scaring me.

I shrieked, whirling around and my eyes widened in surprise when I saw Cato, his eyes dancing with mirth. Behind him I could make out the Careers and the displeasure on their faces was obvious; I could see Micro, too, hovering near the girl from One an anxious look on his features.

"You scared me," I hissed, crossing my arms and looking away from Cato.

That was apparently the wrong move to make. He grabbed my chin, forcefully turning my face to look at him and I fought the urge to shy away.

"Your District partner insists that he's smarter than you," Cato said his voice a low silky purr that had me trembling. "Is that true?"

My eyes darted toward Micro, and then back to Cato. "I disagree, but I'm sure he has his reasons for thinking that," I answered amazed that I had been able to keep my voice steady. His grip on my chin tightened and I winced. "No, he's not smarter than me," I snapped. "He'd like to think he is, but between the two of us I'm more levelheaded."

He released me, his eyes glinting. "Hm," he hummed. He leaned toward me again, and I stood still not moving. "You're mine," he hissed, before straightening up and walking back to the Careers.

I watched him go, shaken by the encounter and turned away eyeing the stations again. I huffed, trying to fight the blush down but it returned full force at the looks from the other tributes. Five, a girl with startlingly red hair, looked beyond amused and curious while Twelve looked suspicious and Peeta looked concerned; the girl from Eleven was watching me worriedly and I could see an echo of concern in her partner's eyes. I huffed, looking away from them and at the ground.

Why couldn't he just leave me alone?


	4. Chapter Three

**A** fter that the rest of training went by smoothly; thankfully Cato left me alone at lunch and for the rest of the day. It seems he had gotten whatever he wanted after that confrontation, and I was glad that he felt no need to bother me anymore. After lunch, I had gone to the knife-throwing station, then to archery, animal hunting, and camouflage (which I was horrible at by the way). I also made sure to revisit the stations that I had been at before lunch to refresh my skills and knowledge. When training was over the tributes headed to the elevators accompanied by the Peacekeepers to make sure that we didn't become too rowdy. To my great displeasure I was in the elevator with the Careers; it seemed that no matter what I did I couldn't seem to avoid them.

The girl from Two looked at me, dark eyes surveying me. "Maybe you're not completely useless Three," she sniffed. "Might be better than your partner."

From his place beside the two tributes from One, I could see Micro pale. "Good, then maybe I won't die on the first day," I muttered trying to keep my voice low.

From behind Two, Cato barked out a laugh, his blue eyes locking onto me with an intensity hard to ignore. "Hear that, Clove? Three thinks she has a chance of surviving past day one." He leaned over Clove, toward me, "Remember. You're mine, that means my kill and when I see you on day one I will kill you."

"Fine," I rolled my eyes, smirking inwardly at the surprised look on Cato's (and Clove's) face. "That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? Even if I would happen to survive past the first day, there's no way I'd even make it into the top ten." I shrugged.

With slight surprise and curiosity, I noticed a disturbed look on Cato's face after I had spoken. I wondered if what I had said bothered him and then quickly dismissed it; he didn't care about me. We hadn't known each other for very long, and at the most all he felt was attraction. But that attraction wouldn't stop him from killing me, I knew that. The elevator stopped on One's floor and the two tributes gracefully exited, two Peacekeepers following them. The remaining two stayed in the elevator with us.

"Your partner wants an alliance with us," Clove spoke up, earning a sharp look from Cato.

I could tell they were surprised when I laughed. "I'm very aware of that, and I'm also very aware that I was not included in his plans in any way shape or form." Out of the corner of my eye I could see Micro flinch. My eyes darted up, meeting Cato's. "I don't have any allies, and there's no reason for two from Three in your alliance. Makes me easy prey, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Clove readily agreed. "For some reason, I think you'd be more useful than your partner though."

Micro paled, and even though I should have taken advantage of the situation I just couldn't. Even though he wasn't loyal to meet, I still felt some loyalty toward him. "Thanks, but no thanks. As soon as I turn my back on you, I'd be dead. Cato has made that quite clear," I said and the smile previously adorning Clove's face fell.

"You sure?" She asked. The elevator dinged as we arrived at their floor. "You might be making a huge mistake Three."

"Probably," I agreed. "But he needs you more than me, and it would benefit you guys to have someone from Three with you. Even if it's not me."

Clove nodded, but the frown on Cato's face deepened. She slunk out of the elevator, but he was much slower to follow. It wasn't until she snapped his name that he moved at all taking the other two Peacekeepers with him. Once they were gone, I found that I could breathe easier and I slumped against the interior of the elevator my previous bravado and confidence completely gone. Micro was watching me, a suspicious look in his dark eyes. Not that I could blame him; I had had a great opportunity to double-cross him, something that I absolutely should have done, but I didn't take it.

The elevator stopped on our floor and silently the two of us exited. Micro was wary of me, and I was pensive wondering if I should have actually taken Clove up on her offer. It was a courtesy that I didn't think extended to many others and I couldn't help but wonder if I was a fool to not take it. It was too late to dwell on it now, I thought sitting at the dinner table. Conversation was mundane with Sugar asking us how our days went, as if being trained to kill people the same age or younger than you, was normal. Perhaps in the Capitol it was, but out in the Districts it was the opposite – it was barbaric.

I noticed as we ate, that Beetee and Wiress were both gone and admittedly it made a little sad. I had known Beetee most of my life, and while he had been here I knew that there was at least one person I could trust. Now with him gone, I didn't know if that was true anymore; it was quite clear that I couldn't trust Micro. Maybe, I would be able to trust our new mentor, Aven, whenever he finally arrived. The elevator doors slid open and a tall, wiry man with dark hair and golden eyes walked in, hands tucked into a worn pair of denim jeans. His eyes were the only Capitol thing about him; everything else screamed District 3.

"Oh children!" Sugar squealed, clapping her hands like a seal. "This is Aven."

She moved to continue speaking but Aven interrupted her, "Yes, I'm sure that they remember me. My Games were only two years ago." He looked between Micro and me, and like Micro had predicted completely dismissed him. "You come with me." He pointed at me.

Reluctantly, I stood up following after him. I wasn't quite sure what to make of his attitude; he seemed unpredictable. I didn't like unpredictable; I liked knowing what was going to happen before it happened. But just looking at him, I could tell that that wasn't how Aven operated. No, he thrived on being unpredictable and outside of the normal. An anomaly if you will. He shut the door to his bedroom and spun around to face me, the previous vivacious expression dropping from his face.

"Beetee told me to help you," He said. "Obviously we'd like to keep both of you alive, but you are his priority and therefore you're now my priority." I nodded. Aven sighed raking a hand through his dark tousled locks. "What stations did you go to today?"

"Fire, shelter, edible plants and insects, snares, knife throwing, archery, hunting, and camouflage. Then I went back and reviewed fire, snares, shelter, and plants," I told him.

Aven nodded, "Good. Keep up that well-rounded thought process, that will help you more in the arena than you could ever know. Tomorrow try to get more weapons training in. And your partner?"

"He's allied with the Careers, I'm sure he'll be fine," I replied. Aven quirked a brow so I elaborated. "Micro, is allied with the Careers and I'm not, he made sure of that. For now, he'll have protection. At least until the numbers start to thin."

Aven sighed, evidently irritated. "Then I won't have to worry about him. Very much." He frowned, "Why aren't you with the Careers?"

I shrugged, not telling him that they had offered me and I had still turned it down. He wouldn't understand and he'd only get mad at me.

Seeing my reluctance Aven waved off the question. "No matter. I'm sure you'll do fine even without them." His face softened, "I know it's hard to contemplate taking the life of another person, I was in your place two years ago, and it doesn't get any easier. I wish it did, but it doesn't. You just have to remember what you're doing, and that is trying to survive. Above everything else remember that, and do it. Survive."

I nodded. Aven smiled, and then I headed to my room to sleep. He had given me a lot to think about and I was sure that the next few days of training would go similarly to today. The next two days, passed exactly as I had predicted (minus a few interferences from Cato, who was growing increasingly annoyed by District partner and more possessive toward me, for reasons I couldn't quite comprehend) and I took Aven's words to heart, constantly reviewing the survival stations even as I trained with weapons. I discovered a particular affinity for hand-to-hand combat and daggers, something that will help me in the arena at least until I go against someone bigger than me. Someone like Cato or Thresh (the boy from District 11). Yesterday, had been the last day of training and that meant training scores. Honestly, I hadn't done as bad as I had expected.

I had tried to demonstrate to the Gamekeepers my versatility, by doing edible plants, archery, and my hand-to-hand combat. My efforts had paid off, and they had given me a surprising but not unwelcome nine. Micro had gotten a six. Cato had gotten a ten; Katniss the girl from Twelve got an eleven, and Peeta had gotten an eight. Katniss's score had been surprising to me; while training she hadn't seemed all that ferocious or capable, but her quiet demeanor and withdrawn nature suddenly made sense. She had been doing it to keep suspicion off of her and throw us off in the arena. Since we didn't have access to the training center anymore, I'd assume that those who had scored lower suddenly wished that they had been able to practice more now that they knew how capable she was.

I fidgeted in my chair, as Palla straightened my wavy hair. "Stop moving around so much," she scolded. I stopped wriggling. "Honestly, you'd think that you were five-years-old." She huffed.

But I knew that she wasn't really annoyed with me. "Sorry," I smiled cheekily.

"Hush," she scolded me. She brushed through my hair, making sure that it was straight. "You should be with the Careers, Larka. You know, that right?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, "I know."

"Then, why aren't you?"

"Micro needs them more than I do."

"As noble as that is Larka, you need to think of your own survival first." She told me. "You can't save him. The Careers will kill him, you know that."

"I know but at least with them he'll survive longer," I answered. "He hasn't done any of the survival skills, Palla. He was relying on the Careers and I can't snatch that alliance away from him, not when without it he'd die. At least I can survive for a little longer than he can." I don't mention how Cato has threatened me.

Palla hums, a frown on her face but doesn't press the subject. She finishes brushing through my hair and hands me a pair of sterling silver gladiator sandals, that complement the black hi-low skirt and the silver sleeveless shirt tucked into it. It's an understated outfit, and it may not make the best impression but I find I am okay with that. I can survive without sponsors; I hope. As the interviews began I noted some of the basic strategies: Glimmer (the girl from One) was trying to be sexy, Marvel (her partner) was trying to be a jokester, Clove arrogant and sarcastic, while Cato was cold and calculating, portraying himself as the ice-cold killer all Career tributes were expected to be.

I felt nervous as I went onto the stage where Caesar Flickerman was waiting and I hoped that I didn't truly bumble this interview – if I did it would certainly spell my demise. I couldn't le "t that happen; Beetee, Aven, Mama and Bran were counting on me to survive.

"Welcome, welcome!" Caesar coos, pressing a kiss to my cheek and making me blush much to the amusement of the crowd watching us. "I've heard a lot about you, Larka! The girl from District 3, who got a nine on her training score!" He indicates for me to sit down and I do so slowly. "Tell me about your life back home," he urges.

"What do you want to know?" I ask with a laugh.

"Any boyfriend?"

A flush decorates my cheeks. "No. No, boyfriend just an overprotective brother," I mumbled, my cheeks still bright red. "My brother wouldn't let me have any boyfriends. Well, he encouraged me not to."

"Why is that?"

"Like I said, overprotective." I shifted, "It kills him that I'm here but I'm sure that he'd get over it once he tastes the food." The lie tastes acrid on my tongue but it succeeds in making the Capitol and Caesar laugh.

"Do you think he'd be surprised at your training score?"

"Probably," I shrugged. "He trained with weapons briefly, but my whole focus has been on inventing and engineering. Stuff that District 3 is known for."

"I see, I see," Caesar hums. He eyes me speculatively, "Are you prepared for the Games?"

"I think so." I smiled again. "There's still a lot that I haven't shown you guys yet."

That succeeds in raising questions and intrigue, which rises when I head backstage because it's Micro's turn to be interviewed. I pat my warm cheeks, watching the rest of the tributes being interviewed. Things were going great, many of the tributes weren't memorable at all, until Peeta spoke. I couldn't blame him, he was trying to stay alive like the rest of us were but it still irritated me. What did he do? Oh, only declared his undying love for one Katniss Everdeen, his District partner. I could see the shock and ire on her face, once she processed what she had said and looking at Peeta I realized that this wasn't a strategy – he really meant it.

That just made me even more irritated. I huffed, looking away a small pout on my lips. Inadvertently my eyes meet Cato's dark gaze, and like always when I catch him staring at me I flush. Something, has changed between Cato and I since the end of training but I'm not quite sure what it was yet. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to find out. His lips curve into a smile and then he's gone, following after Clove and the other Careers to discuss strategy I presume. This is the last night before we face the horrors of the Games, because come tomorrow morning our numbers will dwindled. I look around the assembled faces, and my heart pangs. It will be hard, but it is necessary.

I glide into the elevator, biting my lip so hard that I'm sure it starts to bleed. Tomorrow, everything would change. Tonight, like my first night in the Capitol, I sleep restlessly. My dreams, when I do manage to fall asleep are vivid and nightmarish, and I always wake up in a cold sweat, a scream hovering at the edge of my lips. It is as the sun starts to rise, that I decide to stop trying to sleep anymore. I am tired and exhausted, but I know there is no hope of trying to sleep anymore, it won't make much of a difference.

Everything is silent in on our floor as we silently get ready. I fidget with the light coat I'm wearing, as Palla walks me to a small pedestal that will take me up into the arena. I hesitate stepping on it, even with the Peacekeepers watching and no doubt glaring at me, urging me to move on and to forget my cowardice.

Unexpectedly, Palla draws me close. "Be careful," she whispers and then lets me go.

I step onto the pedestal, staring at her even as the room begins to fade and I rise into the center of the arena. To my right was the woods, and directly in front of me was the Cornucopia. I decided that the Cornucopia was my first target, and the woods my second. If all else failed I'd go left and hope that I'd find something that way. I tensed, preparing to spring as the clock began to count down, each number ringing in my ears.

 _Ten…_

 _Nine…_

 _Eight…_

 _Seven…_

I inhale deeply, my heart thrumming in my chest.

 _Four…_

 _Three…_

 _Two…_

 _One…_

I sprang off the pedestal, the only thought echoing through my mind: _Run! Survive!_


	5. Chapter Four

**I** quickly realized that it was a bloodbath. The Careers were mercilessly striking down their victims. Out of my peripheral vision I see Cato cutting down the girl from Ten, the boy from Nine gets stabbed by Clove. At the same time Marvel swiftly took out the boy from Five. It's brutal and bloody, and I inadvertently flinch as Cato's sword slices over the neck of the boy from Six. Blood sprays from his neck, and seeing the red crimson spray is all I need to snap out of my terror induced state. I grab several packs, kicking the girl from Six away from me and took off running into the woods with the three packs. Behind me I hear Clove yelling, and then an answering yell from Cato and then footsteps are stomping after me.

I spring through the undergrowth, urging myself to go faster. I can't get killed – not yet. A cannon booms, and I urge myself faster. But my legs and lungs are burning, and any second now I know that they'll give out. There's another cannon boom, and I jump, pausing slightly. That lowering of my guard was the biggest mistake I could make. Cato tackles me, and I slam into the dirt a scream crawling its way out of my throat as he pins me. Somewhere my bags fall, but I'm too busy staring into the eyes of the man who will kill me to notice where.

"Didn't I tell you, you're my kill?" Cato hissed, leaning close to me. His breath is minty, and as so often happens in his presence I can't help but to blush. He was going to kill me, and I still couldn't manage to control my hormones. "Got nothing to say Three?"

I snapped. "I have a name, I'd appreciate that you use it." Haltingly I add, "Especially since you're going to kill me."

Cato laughs, his breath tickling my skin. "Sure, sure, little lark." He grins viciously, "Oops. Your name is Larka." His nose brushes against mine, and I shift underneath him. A growl rumbles in his chest and he presses down, rendering me immobile. "You know you aren't bad long," he mumurs contemplatively.

I interrupt him before he can say anything else, "I'm not going to fuck my way through the Games with you, Cato." I clench my draw, "I want to die with some of my dignity left intact."

"Mm, you've got quite a mouth on you don't you," Cato rumbles. He leans forward, nipping at my lower lip and the flush which had mostly gone away, came back with a vengeance. He chuckles then but there is nothing nice in the sound or the way he looks at me. "I'm going to let you go just this once Three. Next time I see you, I'm killing you."

He rolls off of me, rising to his feet gracefully and lopes back to the Cornucopia leaving me panting and confused on the forest floor. When the cannon booms, signifying another kill I come to my senses, scrambling to my feet and grabbing the packs that I had dropped. I walked slowly through the forest, until I come to a thick clustering of trees that I decide will make a good enough shelter to take inventory of supplies. I look up at the trees. Maybe I could climb them. Better not until, I find out what I have. The first bag was a treasure trove for someone like me. Wires, batteries, flasks, rope, and a knife. The second pack yielded food, water and a small axe. The third pack, gave a sleeping bag and a set of throwing knives. I stuffed as much of the supplies as I could into one backpack and tossed the one empty one somewhere into the forest – since it was useless to me now. The second backpack was holding the sleeping bag, so I didn't care much if I lost it. But the pack securely on my back, had everything else in it.

I needed this one.

I moved through the forest for most of the day, until night had fallen and I couldn't move any further. I climbed up one of the trees, my legs dangling from the thick branches and wrapped the rope around me to anchor myself. Then, the sky lights up to display the Fallen. The boy from Four, boy from Five, both from Six, both from Seven, the boy from Eight, both from Nine, and the girl from Ten. Silently I count in my head. Eleven dead, I concluded.

By the end of the first day, our numbers had almost been halved and while I should have felt bad I also felt a sense of relief. Only eleven more tributes had to die before I could go home; not that I thought I was going to make it, but it was still a nice thought to have. Sometime in the night I manage to doze off, but I awaken quickly in the early hours of the morning when I hear a cannon boom. I scowled, swiftly untying myself from the tree I had taken refuge in.

The Careers couldn't wait just a few hours, before having to kill someone, could they? I stuffed the rope and the sleeping bag back into my pack and prepared to climb down when I heard voices. The Careers. They came into view laughing and talking, like this was something that they usually did. Walking beside them I could see Peeta, so I assumed that meant Micro was guarding their precious supplies. Honestly, that was a mistake on their part; didn't they realize that Micro was not a competent combatant? I pursed my lips, tensing as they walked underneath my tree. None of them noticed, until I shifted, and the branches creaked.

"It's not Girl on Fire but it could be just as fun," Glimmer cackled taking aim with her bow.

She let the arrow fly, and I didn't move. I had seen her in training – she wasn't at all skilled with a bow. Still I couldn't help but hold my breath as the arrow whizzed over my head, striking into the bark of the tree. I grabbed it, throwing it down so it impaled itself in the ground, inches from Glimmer's feet. She shrieked, taking aim again but Cato roughly grabbed her arm.

"Don't go wasting precious arrows," he growled, shaking her roughly.

"Go find Girl on Fire," I called out. Cato's head snapped up to look at me. "She might have the same idea I did you know…to get in the trees."

A smirk crawled its way onto his face. "Really?" he asked interested, staring at me with interest.

"Yeah, she's not stupid." I said with a roll of my eyes. "The ground would be too risky, because of you guys." I jumped up, grabbing onto a thick branch above me, hanging precariously for a few seconds and then hauled myself up onto my new perch, further away from their reach. "But, what do I know? I'm just a stupid girl from Three," I shrugged.

"You could still join us Larka!" Cato called, earning himself a suspicious look from Clove and an angry glare from Glimmer. "That little buddy of yours is useless!"

"Mm, he isn't. Not entirely," I hummed. "Although, if he's doing what I think he's doing then yeah, he is."

Cato narrowed his eyes. "Come down!"

"Not a chance!" I shot back. "The second I'm within arm's reach you're going to kill me! I'm not stupid!"

He turned to the rest of his pack, saying something lowly that I couldn't hear and then they were off moving. Well, all of them except Cato. He just continued standing there waiting for me to climb down from my safe haven. He tapped his foot impatiently signaling to me that he wouldn't be moving any time soon, and with a growl I slowly started clambering down the tree, stopping just shy of his reach.

"What do you want?" I asked irritably, holding myself tensely on the branch.

He smiled, "Join us."

"You have Micro," I told him. "You don't need me." He hummed but didn't answer. "Cato!" I snapped. I sighed, "Look, I don't know why you want me to join up with you, since you said the next time you saw me you'd kill me. So just leave me alone."

"Wouldn't you rather I kill you than Girl on Fire?" _Yes,_ I thought but didn't say it. He raised a brow, "Come on Three!"

"What's with the change of heart?" I asked, scrambling to a higher branch. As good-looking as he was, I didn't know if I could trust him and I wasn't about to let myself fall into a possible trap. "You said that the next time you saw me, you'd kill me. But you aren't doing that. Not yet. So what's with the change of heart?"

"If your buddy screws up, accidents might happen and we'll need a back-up engineer," he shrugged carelessly.

It bothered me that he acted like Micro's life didn't matter. I didn't like my District partner and he clearly didn't like me, but that didn't mean I didn't care about him. At least a little bit. If I hadn't, I would have seized the alliance with the Careers and left him to fend for himself but I hadn't; I had declined it and made sure that he would have at least some semblance of protection. But, this was the Hunger Games and in the Hunger Games, your lives don't matter. I couldn't allow myself to forget that again.

I eyed him suspiciously, "If I come down, you promise you won't kill me?" Not that promises meant much in the Hunger Games, but I wanted some kind of reassurance.

Cato smiled amusedly, thinking on the same lines that I was. "I promise. Now come down Three!"

"I have a name," I snapped, slowly lowering myself down the tree. "I'd appreciate if you'd use it. When I die, I want my killer to at least know my name."

The look in his eyes softened and he nodded, "Okay."

That was all he said as I continued climbing down the tree. It was unnerving having his eyes on me, and I couldn't conceal the flush that decorated my cheeks. Just because I knew that he was going to kill me, didn't mean that I didn't find him attractive. I landed on the forest floor with a soft thud, eyeing Cato with open distrust. That was partly what made him so dangerous, I realized tensing when he waved his hand indicating for me to go first. When I didn't move, I could see his jaw clench but he smiled good-naturedly and started forward. I shadowed him closely, keeping my eyes on him.

It would only take me letting down my guard for a second, for him to kill me. I eyed the obvious trail that the Careers had left with distaste, but didn't comment. No doubt it would only serve to anger Cato. My eyes darted toward his tense broad shoulders. It seemed I had annoyed him enough already; if I wanted to live any longer I needed to stay silent and get on his good side. We came to a stop in a small, clearing where the rest of his pack – sans Micro and the girl from Four – were. A scowl was on Clove's face, and she eyed me with open dislike as I followed Cato toward them. Glimmer and Marvel were conversing quietly, and I was a little surprised that they seemed to be getting along so well.

I had thought Glimmer had a thing for Cato, based on the way that she was often hanging off of him when we had been training. But seeing her eyes locked on Marvel, perhaps I had been mistaken. Or maybe, she just liked the attention.

"Hi Three," Clove greeted me a sadistic smile on her face, "I thought you had declined our invitation? So, what are you doing here?" Her hands held one of her throwing knives tightly and unconsciously I edged toward Cato, whose head snapped around to glare at Clove.

"Enough," he told her sternly. "If her partner screws up, she's the back-up." He sighed, "She's also not completely useless. She survived the Bloodbath, didn't she?"

"She did," Clove concedes but the dark look doesn't leave her face. "However, she didn't kill anyone Cato. She's useless in that regard." She rolled her dark eyes, "We have supplies so we don't need her to hunt or do anything else either." Her eyes narrowed at me, "Useless. It'd be easier to just kill her and get it over with."

"Clove," he snapped. "I told you that is enough. She's joining our alliance temporarily and if you have a problem with it then you can leave."

A hurt expression crossed Clove's face. I had to admit, that I was surprised too. I didn't think he would end up picking me over his District partner; from the slight surprise glistening in Clove's hurt irises, I presumed that she had been thinking the same way. The petite girl huffed, looking away from the two of us a look of annoyance on her face.

"Fine." She grumbled. "She can stay."

"You didn't have a choice," Cato informed her smugly. "And when the time comes, she's my kill."

I wandered away from the two, leaving them to sort out their differences and headed toward Peeta who had been unusually silent. I hadn't thought I would see him with the Careers; I had thought he and Katniss would band together, especially given his confession that he was in love with her during the interviews. Sullenly, Peeta smiled at me his eyes looking pained and I nudged his shoulder with my hip.

"You okay?" I asked quietly, as Cato and Clove continued to argue and bicker.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Being with the Careers is," he paused seeming to search for words, "difficult."

"Especially when they want to kill Katniss," I said my voice little more than a whisper.

Something flashed in his blue eyes and he nodded. "Yeah. Especially when they want to kill Katniss."

"But you don't want to?" I checked. He shot me an aghast look and I smiled, my answer confirmed. "I won't tell," I shrugged. "I won't help you either," I pointed out when he started to look hopeful. My eyes darted to Cato, who had ceased his arguing and was staring at Peeta and I intently. "I'm not looking to die anytime soon."

"Fine," Peeta grumbled.

I looked at him suspiciously, and then crossed my arms staring at the ground. I didn't move as Cato approached the two of us; he hissed something to Peeta that I couldn't hear and then it was just us. I fidgeted, looking at everything but him.

"What were the two of you talking about?" he grumbled suspiciously. When I didn't reply he grabbed my arm with bruising force. "What were the two of you talking about," he repeated his voice thinly veiled with anger.

I trembled, looking at him nervously. Telling him would endanger Peeta's life; but, not telling him…that would endanger mine. I swallowed, "Katniss. We were talking about Katniss."

"What about Katniss," he hissed, giving me a rough shake.

I squeaked. "Just how you guys want to kill her!" His grip on my arm tightened. "That's it! I swear!"

He let go of my arm, and I flinched away from him. Now more than ever, I was regretting my momentary lapse in judgment that had made me decide to ally with them. Without a doubt, I knew that Cato was going to kill me. If not now, then soon.

"Three," he said his voice softer than I was expecting, reaching out to me. I flinched away, crossing my arms around my middle defensively. "Larka," he corrected himself.

"Stay away from me Cato," I mumbled. I looked up at him then, not missing the remorseful look in his dark blue eyes. "I'm your ally, and I'll help you but that's it. If you don't need my help, then stay away from me."

I could tell my words had angered and frustrated him, but he just nodded. I shuffled away from him, hovering on the outskirts of their makeshift camp as they discussed strategies. I wasn't really paying attention – like Clove had said, I hadn't killed anyone during the Bloodbath. I was useless when it came to this kind of brutality; something that Cato didn't have a problem with. I notice that Peeta hasn't taken any part in the discussions; like me he is an outsider. Of course, he's also trying to protect Katniss, so of course he won't participate in their talks of killing her. I leaned against the trunk of a tree, watching them carefully.

"Honestly Cato, we'll get Bitch on Fire eventually," Clove grumbled.

"I'm hungry! Can't we go back to the Cornucopia yet?" Glimmer protested.

"We will, eventually," Cato said through gritted teeth. My stomach rumbled and my cheeks flushed bright red when his eyes snapped over to me. He huffed out a sigh, "Fine, we'll go to the damn Cornucopia for now since all of you are starving. But if we lose Bitch on Fire, there will be blood."

"Sounds good," Clove chirped, rising to her feet. She stepped toward me grinning, "Who knew? Maybe it is a good thing he's attracted to you."

The flush on my cheeks darkened and I turned away from her piercing gaze. Cato barked out a command from somewhere behind her and she rolled her eyes, but listened. From what I had seen so far, it would be a mistake not to.

"Let's go," Cato growled.


	6. Chapter Five

**N** eedless to say, the walk back to the Cornucopia was more than awkward. Glimmer alternated between hanging off Marvel and Cato, Clove was imagining killing Katniss, Cato was barking out commands, and Peeta and I were silent. But I had no doubt that all cameras were fixated on us, not only for the unusual make-up of the Career pack but also because of – dare I say it? – me. I was from Three, and had initially been on my own so to have the offer to join while in the Games, that surely had to raise some eyebrows in the Capitol. It had to _intrigue_ them. I stepped over a large root, falling behind slightly as the Careers continued marching. They set a demanding pace. Probably why they had so many victims, the thought crossed through my head wryly.

"Falling behind Three?" Clove asked teasingly over her shoulder, her smile widening when Cato glanced over his shoulder, cobalt eyes falling on me.

"No," I answered defiantly. She raised a brow. "Maybe. I'm from Three, I'm not used to a lot of activity," I grumbled.

"What are you used to?" asked Cato, slowing the pace much to Glimmer's and Marvel's confusion. Clove was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, a smug look and an even larger grin on her face than before.

"Sitting," I deadpanned. A brief look of amusement crossed his face. "I'm used to sitting in Beetee's workshop and helping Bran. When I was smaller and I couldn't help much with making things for the Capitol, Bran would hand me left over parts and challenge me to make something." A small smile appeared on my face, "It was fun."

"Who's Bran?" Clove asked curiously. "Your boyfriend?"

A look of revulsion appeared on my face and I didn't miss how tense Cato had become after the question. But I dismissed it. "God no," I spat. "I love him, but he's my brother. Even the thought," I shivered.

Clove smiled, "So no boyfriend?"

"No," I huffed out irritated. "I don't know why you're so curious Clove, unless you're into girls."

"What if I am?" Clove batted her lashes flirtatiously. "Would you give me a chance, even though we're in the Hunger Games?"

It was a little odd, to see the cold girl I had seen in training so loose and bubbly here. It wasn't something I expected from her based on her disposition, but somehow, I found it fit her. She wasn't completely relaxed, but she was a lot lighter. It was a nice change.

"Not a chance," I shot her down. "I like guys, not girls."

"Pity," Clove hummed. There was silence and then, "So what about Cato?"

He sputtered, glaring at her and frostily said, "That is more than enough, Clove. Quiet."

She looked angry at him, but obediently clamped her mouth shut. I looked between the two worriedly but didn't saying anything; it wasn't my place and I didn't want to risk Cato's ire falling on me. When we arrived back to the Cornucopia, I noticed an immediate change in the Careers. They were more relaxed here, yet at the same time they weren't. It was a difficult conundrum to explain and I wasn't quite sure how to put it into words. Only, that things were different. I hovered near the entrance of the Cornucopia eyeing the weapons that were stockpiled inside; many of them were ones that I wouldn't be able to use, like a spear or a machete. Hell, there was even an axe.

Warmth at my back alerted me to a presence and I jumped, feeling hot breath on the back of my neck.

"Picking a weapon?" Cato's husky voice rumbled in my ear.

I stepped away from him, "Yeah. I can't let myself be completely useless, can I?" I crossed my arms, "Besides I don't want to be completely defenseless."

"You don't trust that we'll protect you?" There's a dangerous edge to his voice.

"You will, I know that. But for how long? Until I become useless." I glanced over my shoulder at him, noting that he's glaring at me now. "I don't think I have a chance against you or Clove, but I'd like to at least go down with a fight."

He just hums. Then, "You think you could beat Glimmer and Marvel?"

"Please," I rolled my eyes. "By that point they'll be dead and I'd be long gone. There'd be too little competition so you and Clove would be knocking everybody else off."

"You have a point," he muttered. He backed away from me, toward the evening light at the mouth of the Cornucopia. "Pick a weapon, any weapon. Or more, I don't care." He shrugged, "You need a fighting chance."

"Thanks," I muttered staring after him stunned.

He was interesting, I had to admit that. But dangerous and that wasn't something I couldn't forget. I sift through the weapons, deciding on some more knives. Then I head outside the Cornucopia, sitting in the warm grass and watching the Careers closely. Glimmer is chatting animatedly to Clove who didn't seem to be paying attention to her, Cato is prowling around the Cornucopia a dark look on his face, Marvel is laying near Glimmer and Clove seemingly enjoying the sun, Four is sitting near him combing her fingers through his hair, Micro was messing with the landmines, and Peeta was doing the same thing I was – watching. The interaction between Four and Marvel puzzled me but I didn't let it show; I had thought he was with Glimmer. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe I was wrong.

It wasn't like it mattered anyways. They both weren't going to make it out alive. Only one could survive in the Hunger Games, and I had a feeling that it would be Cato. I mean, he was the ideal tribute from District 2. Nobody could possibly best him; except maybe Katniss – Twelve – if she can manage to outlast him. Eventually the supplies that came with the Cornucopia will run out, and if she can survive longer than that she might have a chance. Although, something tells me that she's a little too hotheaded to wait around that long. I glanced at Peeta; it helps that she has an ally, even if she isn't aware of it. I frowned down at the ground. Katniss was probably a lot more capable than she looked too.

In the end, it didn't matter. I'd be lucky if I survived for that long. If Cato didn't kill me first, someone else would. Maybe it would be Clove, or maybe it would be some unknown tribute that I didn't know the name of and who didn't know me. I couldn't decide which was worse: to be killed by someone I did know or to be killed by someone I didn't.

That night, the Careers leave to go hunting leave me with Four and Micro – two of the people I happen to trust the least. I find it trouble to sleep, but eventually I fall into a restless one, waking only when Micro shakes me awake a sad look in his eyes. I look around, noticing that the girl from Four is gone and the supplies are stacked precariously. I hold back a smirk. Micro had done what I had expected to; he had reactivated the landmines but I couldn't help but think it was going to be a mistake. Maybe if I was lucky, it'd cost both of us our lives.

Someone breaks through the trees, screaming and it takes me a minute to recognize it as Clove. Closely following behind her are Marvel and an enraged and bloody Cato. I wait for a few moments to approach them, and when I do I see why they are screaming and mumbling, and acting so out of character.

Trackerjacker venom.

"What happened?" I asked, stepping closer to Cato and prying the sword from his limp hands.

"Bitch on Fire," he growls. "Dropped a nest of trackerjackers on us. Killed Glimmer." He was practically vibrating with rage. "And then we find out that _Loverboy,_ " he sneers the name, "was helping her all along. He wasn't going to lead us to her." Piercing blue eyes lock onto me then, "You didn't know anything about that did you?"

"No." But I had my suspicions. I didn't say that out loud, though. I sigh, "I knew he didn't want her dead, but I didn't know he was double-crossing you guys. Should have been able to see that he was though."

I hope Cato buys the lie.

It seems he does because he relaxes. "Is there water?"

I look toward the pyramid of supplies. "Yeah, but I'm not going to get it." He looks at me questioningly, and my heart stutters because he looks so much younger without that scowl on his face. "It'd be my luck that I trip and set off one of the landmines, and that'd blow all the supplies up. No thanks, not taking any chances."

He huffs, but doesn't protest and I know that right now he isn't truly annoyed with me. There's a tinkling sound and then floating down from the artificial sky of the arena is a sponsor gift. As soon as it hits the ground, I grab it. Water and ointment – probably for the Careers. I toss one of the water bottles to Cato who struggles to catch it, and then glance down at the rest of the gift and coincidentally the paper attached to it.

 _Keep playing nice with Two. You two are sickeningly adorable and the Capitol is eating it up._

\- _Aven_

I sigh, walking over to Cato. "The stings hurt?" I ask knowingly, a smile appearing on my face when all he does is grunt. "At least it's not too bad," I continue unscrewing the jar's lid. "You'll survive," my lips twitch when he mutters something I can't hear under his breath. But he can't hide the small smile on his face. I scoop up some of the ointment and lean closer to him. "I really don't want to do this, but no one else is coherent enough to and I'm sure you don't want Micro doing this."

"You got that right," Cato rumbled. "Kid's an idiot."

"He's not that much younger than us," I scold gently but can't deny that he's right. If Micro was smart, he would have set some of the supplies in a safe place instead of having it all together surrounded by landmines. "But you aren't wrong." I rub the ointment against the skin of his arm, "How old are you anyways?"

He seems surprised that I asked the question. "Eighteen."

"I'm guessing you volunteered then," I muse. He responds with a nod, watching me with something in his gaze that I can't place. "Must've been training for the Games your whole life then."

"Something like that," he says. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," I reply. I can feel his gaze on me, urging me to elaborate. "Didn't volunteer, was Reaped and I'd much rather be at home messing around in the workshop." He stills as I gather more ointment on my fingers and begin rubbing it into his neck and onto his face. "Although, Bran would probably kill me."

"Why?" he asks.

"Some of the things I make, when I'm just messing around are a bit…dangerous." I hedge. He narrows his eyes at me and I can't help but laugh. I like this Cato; too bad it won't laugh and he's only this relaxed because of the trackerjacker venom. "Explosive. Some of the things I make are a little explosive." He barks out a laugh and I shrug, "Accidents happen. Except Bran, would say that it's not an accident and then ban me until Beetee convinces him that I'm more of a help than a nuisance."

"Beetee," Cato murmurs. "He's a Victor, isn't he?"

"Mm-hm," I nod, leaning back on my heels and screwing the lid back on. I glance over my shoulder at a passed-out Clove and a hallucinating Marvel. "We're close, but he's much friendlier with Bran than me. It's because Bran is his assistant, and I'm just his assistant's kid sister who sometimes blows things up." I stand up, about to move toward Clove when he grabs my wrist, tugging me back to sit on the ground next to him. "Cato?"

I notice that his eyes are less hazy, but I refuse to believe that he's acting of his own volition. The ointment couldn't have helped him that fast; the trackerjacker venom is still influencing him. His eyes droop and I smile then. I knew it. This wasn't the real Cato; he was still being influenced by the venom and it didn't help that he was exhausted.

"Not so bad," he slurs, eyelids fluttering as he fights to stay awake.

"Who?"

"You." He mumbles, posture slumping. "Fun to have around." He yawns hugely then. "Not so bad," he repeats.

"Tell me that when things go horribly wrong, and I might believe you," I tell him rising to my feet and chucking the ointment at a flustered Micro. "I'm going out," I say heading to my weapons. "Probably should use some of that on Clove and Marvel."

"Are you going to do something stupid?" Micro asks.

I grin widely then, "Yeah."


	7. Chapter Six

**O** rdinarily I pride myself on being levelheaded and at times having brilliant ideas. But this is not one of those times. Of course, the Games have changed everything even me and that's why even though my idea is stupid and it's more of a thought than a full-fledged plan I'm determined to see it through. I'm looking for Peeta. As soon as Cato finds out he'll kill me, and if Katniss finds me I'm dead but I feel like I owe him some sort of debt. I can't explain why; maybe because he was nice to me during training and he was nice to me even while we're in the Games. More than that, I think it's because he reminds me a little bit of Bran – too nice for his own good and horribly unsuited for the Games.

I barely make it half a mile into the forest before I'm ambushed by the boy from Ten. All thoughts of finding Peeta and apologizing or helping him immediately from my mind as Ten slams me into a tree, wielding a deadly looking axe. There's a crazed glint in his eyes and I duck as he swings the axe where my head had been a few moments before. Decapitation is not in my plans. The axe gets stuck in the wood of the tree and I kick him in the stomach, using what little leg strength I have to keep him away from his weapon. If I can keep him weaponless I might have a shot at getting away from him. Or, if worse comes to worse killing him.

He growls throwing a wild out of control punch my way that I'm barely able to dodge. Before I can process it, he is on me, pounding his fists into my stomach. I choke out a scream writhing beneath him and somehow manage to throw him off me. Well, not really throw. More like dislodge and get him off balance. I shove him, knocking him to the floor and draw one of the many knives I had hidden on my person. He smiles cockily. Even with the appearance of a weapon he isn't intimidated by me at all, and even though it shouldn't bother me – I am very aware that I'm perhaps the least intimidating person out there – it for some reason does. He leaps at me again and wildly I lash out with the knife, causing him to let out an enraged roar as it cuts through his skin drawing blood.

It is then I notice that he's not wearing a jacket. It only takes another moment before I realize he's charging at me again. Before I even realizing it, I am moving putting into practice the skills I had learned during training. I duck his outstretched arms and using his own momentum against him trip him up and slightly flipping his much larger frame over mine. He groans, lying winded on the forest floor and before I'm even aware of what I'm doing, I'm leaning over him and digging the knife into the soft skin of his throat. The knife pierces his throat and instantly the light leaves his eyes as blood sprays from the room, getting on my face, down the front of my jacket and coating my hands in it.

I am vaguely aware of the cannon booming but beyond that I have trouble comprehending anything. I see a flash of red hair out of my peripheral vision but by the time I twist around it's gone. Shakily, I get to my feet stumbling away from the body of the boy from Ten as the roar of a hovercraft becomes much clearer. I stumble in the direction of the Cornucopia, sheathing my knife and then trying to wipe the blood off of my face. I pause at the tree line, a few hundred yards away from the Cornucopia and my – temporary – allies, surprised that Cato, who still needs to recover from the trackerjacker venom, is arguing with Clove, who must have recently awoken, because she has his weapons and is refusing to give them to him.

Their words become clearer as I get closer, and it isn't long before Clove spots me.

"See!?" she shouts pointing at me. Cato whirls his expression becoming worried once he spots me covered in blood. "She's there! She's fine!" She stomps her foot, "And I am keeping your damned weapons you stupid idiot!"

"Shut up you harpy," Cato growls. And then he's stalking away from Clove and toward me. I feel nervous for a moment but it quickly fades when he cups my face in his hands gently, blue eyes glimmering with an emotion that I think is concern. "What happened?"

"I killed the boy from Ten," my voice is little more than a whisper. My eyes dart over his shoulder to Micro who is rubbing a rapidly bruising cheek. "I went into the forest and he jumped me. So, I killed him."

"Good girl," Cato whispers, astonishing me further when he tugs me securely against his chest.

I want to say that I shouldn't be praised for killing someone, but I can't find the words. I slump against him, all of the adrenaline and fight from before quickly fading and leaving me exhausted. His hand strokes through my hair which had fallen from its bun, while his other arm remains wrapped possessively around my waist. I'm puzzled by his sudden change of attitude - and affection – toward me, but I don't dare to question it. Obediently I let him lead me over to the Cornucopia, too tired to actually bother putting up a fuss or argue with him. I sink down to the ground, barely aware that I'm shaking.

I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I killed another human being, and comprehend Cato's sudden change in attitude. Clove hands him something and then he's kneeling in front of me, a bowl of broth in his hands. I try to take it from him, but the instant I do so he's pulling it away from me a stern look on his face. It's only when I slump against the Cornucopia with a sigh, that he brings the thermos closer and slowly lifts the spoon out of the bowl. I'm stunned by the soft but demanding look in his eyes. I don't have the energy to argue with him, and willingly let him spoon-feed me the meal.

When he's done, I curl onto my side looking away from him. I hear him sigh but thankfully he backs off and doesn't try to approach me. It's only minutes later that I realize I want him; well maybe not him exactly, but I do want human comfort. But I don't dare call out to him and let him know that; I don't need him having an advantage over me. Somehow, somehow though he knows because it isn't long before he's slinking back over to me, sitting on the grass beside me his back against the Cornucopia. Then he's wrapping an arm around me, tugging me closer so that I'm practically in his lap. My cheeks flush and I weakly struggle, but stop moving when he rests his chin on my shoulder his eyes roving around what remained of the Career pack. Clove was picking at her nails with a knife, and Marvel was dozing in the grass while Micro was shifting nervously behind Clove.

"I killed him," I whispered, and the arm Cato has around my waist tightens.

"You did good," he answered back his tone softer than I would have expected. "It was either him or you, and you chose you. There's nothing wrong with that." He paused, "He attacked you, didn't he?" A barely perceptible nod. "It was self-defense. It's not like what happened during the Bloodbath. It's nothing like what we did."

I can't help but asking him, "What changed?" He doesn't reply but I can sense his surprise mingled with curiosity. "Between us?" He stills. "You still want to kill me, don't you?"

"I have to," he murmurs. "If I want to get home, I have to kill you. Wouldn't you rather it be me than Bitch on Fire?"

"Of course," I answered back. "But, that doesn't explain why you're being so nice to me now." I shifted in his arms, twisting so I could look at him. "It doesn't make sense to me. Why you're being this affectionate." I frowned, "It's weird."

"Would you rather I ignore you?" Cato drawls. The grip his hand on my hip tightens and he looks away from me, clenching his jaw.

Clove broke into the conversation, "What he's trying to say without actually saying it, is that he thinks you're attractive and he likes you."

"Clove," Cato snarls looking a mixture of embarrassed and furious.

I smile as he starts ranting because this is the Cato I know. His affection and tenderness toward me was nice, but it was weird (that's not to say I didn't enjoy it). I didn't know how to handle it, but aggressive and angry Cato – that I can handle. Clove merely smiles, enduring the verbal abuse for quite a while until she gets fed up with it and throws a knife at Cato's head. It didn't hit him, because I think she wasn't aiming for him. If there was one thing I knew about Clove, it was that she rarely ever missed, so for the knife to land less than an inch away from Cato's head told me that she hadn't been aiming for him at all.

"Are we going to be hunting Bitch on Fire soon or what?" Clove grumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back. "Loverboy is gone, but I haven't heard a cannon. He probably joined with his little girlfriend, huh? But he's injured, right?" Cato nodded. "Hm. Then wouldn't it be easy to go after them now, and kill them while they're vulnerable?"

"So are we Clove," Cato reminded her. "We are not strong enough yet, to go after her."

Clove smirked, "Not strong enough? Whoever thought Cato would admit a weakness."

I kept silent as they squared off against each other. I knew that they weren't truly angry at each other, or annoyed; this was just how their relationship works. It's probably because they are from Two – the emotionally stunted District. Honestly what else could it be called? In Two, you are trained for the Hunger Games because it's seen as an honor and if you are one of the lucky ones picked, you are expected to win. I glanced at Cato and then at Clove; for them, it would be shameful if they didn't win. But then again, it wouldn't matter because they would be dead. Still, they wanted to bring honor to their families and their District so they would fight as hard as they could to win.

I didn't have the same motivation. I hadn't expected to be picked for the Hunger Games, and it was by sheer luck that I had made it this far and that I hadn't been killed yet. It helped that I had the protection of the Careers, but that protection wouldn't last for long. I knew that. All it would take is a few more deaths and then it would be me that they are hunting. It should bother me, that I know I'm only days away from being one of their victims, but I think I've come to accept it. As optimistic as I had tried to be, I had known all along that I wouldn't be getting out of the arena alive. Not unless by some miracle the Gamemakers would choose to eliminate all of my competition and leave me the only one alive.

Clove raised an eyebrow turning her unnerving gaze to me. "Looks like she's getting a little tired."

I felt Cato shift under me and it took me a moment to realize that he was curving his body around me. I flushed bright red and I could make out Clove cackling as Cato shifted us so that we were lying on the ground.

"Go to sleep little one," he murmured his voice a gravelly rumble in his chest. "We will be here when you wake."

His words shouldn't bring me any sort of comfort but they do, and soon I find myself dozing off wrapped in the arms of the most dangerous participant in the arena. But I find that I do not mind that at all.


	8. Chapter Seven

**W** hen I wake, I realize that I'm still wrapped up in Cato's arms. The smart logical thing to do, would be to move away and then immediately distance myself; being close to him will only get me hurt. But, that's the furthest thing from my mind. The words that Clove had said yesterday, were stuck in my mind.

 _"_ _What he's trying to say without actually saying it, is that he thinks you're attractive and he likes you."_

Of course, those words shouldn't be stuck in my head, and I shouldn't be dwelling them. I also shouldn't be feeling flattered by them or happy. I should feel horrified and sick, but I don't because for some reason those words do nothing but make me happy. _Stupid, Larka,_ I scold myself. _You just have to be falling for a Career – your future murderer!_

I shift in his arms, doing my best not to wake him. I'm unsuccessful as I can hear him let out an irritated huff, air fanning the back of my neck and causing me to shiver, and then he's grumbling something under his breath that I can't hear. I'm aware of Clove moving around the Cornucopia hissing threats underneath her breath, Marvel still sleeping, and Micro hovering around his trap nervously but beyond that I don't pay much attention as Cato pulls me closer to him, his arms constricting like a vice around my waist.

I was starting to drift off to sleep, when a boot kicked Cato in the ribs causing him to jerk – then flail, hitting me in the ribs and catching me in my face – and abruptly release me. He stumbled to his feet, glaring at Clove who was standing over us with a self-satisfied smirk and I groaned, wiping at my eyes with my hands. I touched my jaw, immediately wincing afterwards. That was going to bruise.

"Sorry," Clove apologized, but she didn't really sound apologetic. "Get up Cato, I want to start hunting Katbitch."

"Hold your damn horses," Cato growled, glaring at her. He turned to me then, his eyes softening as they landed at the rapidly forming bruise on my jaw. "Are you okay?"

"It's just a bruise," I told him, clambering to my feet. "Compared to what will eventually happen, it isn't really that big of a deal."

I saw him tense but he just nodded and then turned back to Clove. I presumed that they were discussing strategy. I thought it weird that they were leaving Marvel out, but he was the odd man out in the alliance now. Micro and I – though we didn't get along – were from the same District, and Cato and Clove were from the same District as well. It was only Marvel who didn't have a District partner in this alliance – if you could call it that – because his partner was killed by Katniss. Speaking of Katniss, she seemed much more ruthless and capable than I had thought she would be. It was odd, I suppose, how we all dismissed the girl from Twelve and thought she wouldn't be a threat. But it turned out she was one of the most dangerous.

Marvel sprung to his feet, "Look!"

We turned to follow the direction of his gaze, and my brows furrowed when I saw a column of smoke rising in the distance. Clove cheered, thinking that it was the Girl on Fire but I had my doubts. She was entirely too smart to put that blatant of a target on her back; no, she had to have some sort of plan. My eyes darted to the supplies, my belly clenching uncomfortably. Could she be wanting a shot at the supplies? But, she didn't know how to get to it. So, then what was she planning?

I turned to Cato, to express my suspicion but I was too late. They were striding confidently into the forest, and I could only watch them go worriedly. Something bad was going to happen, I could just feel it. I stood by the Cornucopia, watching the forest and then turned to Micro who was looking increasingly nervous. He looked out of place holding the spear in his hand, and I couldn't help but feel some sympathy for him.

"You know that when they come back, they are going to kill us," Micro told me. "If they find her, we're next." He looked at me, his eyes filled with fear. "We're next."

"Maybe," I murmured.

"Why aren't you concerned?" He demanded. "You should be you know."

"Perhaps," I conceded. "But I think we both knew when we were Reaped that neither of us are making it out of here alive. Girl on Fire aside, can you honestly tell me that you think you or me would even stand a minute chance against Clove? Or Cato?"

"No," he snapped.

The conversation ended there. I knew that Micro didn't want to die; I didn't want to die either. But I also recognized that there was no conceivable way that any of us could escape the arena alive, unless one of us became the Victor and with the contenders still in the arena it was looking highly unlikely. Neither of us had a shot at beating Katniss let alone Clove or Cato who had been training for the Games for years, and there was still the hulking boy from Eleven (who was God knows where).

"Let's face it, we're not going to win," I sent him a small smile. "Might as well enjoy what we can, because soon we'll be dead."

He was about to reply when the world around us exploded. I do mean that quite literally. Searing heat emitted from the explosion and the boom nearly deafened me. I screamed falling to my belly as debris and dirt flew toward us from the detonated landmines and the supplies which were now in smithereens. My ears were covered by my hands, but even with that it did nothing to save my hearing. I could feel hot, sticky, blood running from one of my ears and I groaned curling in on myself.

Behind me I could hear Micro shouting at me, but I couldn't make out his words. It was minutes later before I could move, but every movement of my body sent searing pain through my skull and dizziness enveloped me. I blinked, trying to shake away the dizziness but it did nothing to help. I slumped against the Cornucopia, eyes staring hazily as the Careers bounded back into the clearing. Clove and Cato looked absolutely furious, while Marvel merely looked irritated. Cato turned his furious look on Micro, striding over to him and snapping his neck. Then his furious look turned on me. But it quickly faded as he came closer to me.

"Three?" he asked. His voice sounded funny, like it was coming from the end of a tunnel. "Larka?" He gripped my chin roughly in his hand. "Larka," he repeated his voice sounding clearer and more worried.

"'M fine," I slurred, pushing at him weakly.

He smiled, "As much as you want to believe that, you aren't." He turned my head to the side, "What happened?"

"What do you think?" I grumbled feeling more than irritated. "The supplies blew up, and my ear hurts." His grip on my chin tightened and I winced, immediately regretting the action when my pain shot through my skull. "Bet it was Katniss," I mumbled, my speech coming out more slurred. "Micro and I weren't anywhere near supplies…We couldn't have set it off…"

"Sleep," Cato commanded me gently.

I missed the rest of what he said as sleep dragged me under. When I next woke up, it was nighttime and Clove was gone. So was Marvel. Cato was sitting at a fire, staring into it and didn't move even when I got to my feet swaying dangerously as I tried to get my balance back. Suddenly the anthem was blasted across the sky and the names of The Fallen appeared. My jaw dropped when I saw his face.

 _Marvel._

I glanced at Cato, who wasn't looking at the sky. Then the little girl from Eleven appeared and once more I glanced at Cato. Eleven must have had something to do with Marvel's death, I assumed. But I didn't ask. The picture faded, and I realized that I must have slept for at least a day. Otherwise Micro's face would have appeared too. I hummed, glancing back up at the sky. So, in two days, three people had died. And none of them were Katniss or Peeta. Maybe that was why Cato seemed so upset.

"You're awake," he said startling me.

"Yeah," I answered taking that as an invitation to walk over to him. "Where's Clove?"

"Foraging. That was the only survival station that she spent some time at," Cato rumbled.

He grabbed me, pulling me toward him so suddenly that I didn't have time to resist (not that I was going to). I landed in his lap clumsily, my cheeks flushing when he rested his chin on my shoulder, his arms wrapped around my waist. It could be considered romantic if we weren't in the middle of the Hunger Games.

"Are you okay?" I asked, peering at him with a little concern. As much as I didn't want to admit it, he had grown on me at least a little.

"Fine." His grip on me tightened. "Bitch on Fire killed Marvel," he grumbled. "Should have killed her and Loverboy during the Bloodbath."

"You tried to," I told him. Admittedly though, my memories of the Bloodbath were a little hazy. The only thing I vividly remember from the first day was my encounter with Cato, and how he spared me after promising that he would kill me. "So, how many of us are left?"

"Seven of us, I think. Loverboy, Bitch on Fire, Clove, Eleven, Five, me, and you," Cato told me. He sighs, "You were asleep when it happened."

"When what happened?"

"Rule change," Cato said simply. My eyes widened and I tensed in his arms. "There can be two Victors if they come from the same District."

Two Victors if they come from the same District. Cato and Clove, and Peeta and Katniss. It was clear who had influenced the rule change – Peeta and Katniss. But Clove and Cato could benefit from it too. I wouldn't be able to; my District partner was dead which meant that as of now I was on my own. Should I consider the alliance officially dissolved as of this moment? I should. Cato and Clove had no reason to keep me alive any longer; I was of little to no use and the rule change pitted me against them.

"Are you going to kill me now then?" I asked amazed that my voice wasn't shaking.

"No," Cato snarled. His arms tightened around me, trying to draw me closer to him; which I imagined was quite difficult since I was already in his lap. "Not yet," he promised me his voice hoarse. "For now, you're safe, but eventually…" he trailed off.

"Eventually you'll kill me, so that you and Clove can go home," I replied my voice little more than a whisper.

"Yes."

"Thank you," I whispered, curling toward him. "For not killing me right away. For letting me into the alliance." I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands, barely aware that tears were sliding down my face. Before the idea of death – more specifically my death – had seemed so far away, but now it was looming closer than ever. It felt like it was right at my door. "When you kill me, make it quick. I don't want to suffer for long."

"I promise," he vowed, burying his face in my hair.

"Thank you," I whispered again.

It was stupid, that I had allowed myself to get attached to him; especially in such a short amount of time. But when death was constantly hunting you, I suppose that it is something that can't be helped. For the longest time Cato and I sat in silence. There wasn't anything to say. Clove insisted that he was attracted to me and liked me, but he wasn't the type to confess his undying love for me. I wasn't expecting that; I wasn't expecting love at all, not from him. He wasn't like Peeta, professing his love to everyone in Panem. He was Cato, and that meant he showed affection in the little ways. He was quieter and more private, and the opposite of Peeta.

That was why, even though I knew I was going to die, I didn't expect a confession of love or even admittance that he liked me. I didn't need it. I would like to feel love, but I didn't think I would get it from Cato. Perhaps his liking of me, stemmed from how attractive he found me. I didn't understand why or how; I wasn't exceptionally beautiful. I was of average height, with dark hair and green eyes. I wasn't outstandingly beautiful like Glimmer, or more subtly beautiful like Clove or even Katniss.

"Oi, love-birds cut it out with the cuddling!" Clove's voice sliced through the quiet, still air causing me to jump. I expected Cato to relinquish his hold on me but he didn't. "I come bearing gifts!" She called, nearing us. "Leaves!" She sat down on the floor a scowl on her features, "Great sustenance, right?"

My stomach rumbled, "It's better than eating nothing."

"True," Clove grumbled, "but I would absolutely kill for a squirrel or something with meat on it. God, even bread would sound good!"

"I think I'd like rolls and roast beef," I mused, leaning more comfortably against Cato as Clove divvied up the berries and leaves she had gathered. "That was my favorite meal from the Capitol that we've had. The rolls are even better than Three's bread."

"What do you normally eat in Three?" Cato asked curiously, leaning forward and plucking a berry out of Clove's hand.

"Well, for breakfast we usually have bread. Sometimes, Bran will bring butter and sugar for us and we'll have toast. Otherwise, we'll eat bread and porridge, and have water. Lunch is usually meat, roasted nuts, vegetables and fruit. Dinner we usually have bread and whatever leftovers we have from lunch," I said, leaning forward and snatching a berry from Clove. She glared at me half-heartedly. "Our meals don't really vary much, but it's still really good." I yawned, "I suppose we're fortunate enough. Food isn't too expensive, and we always seem to have just enough."

"District 3 sounds completely different from District 2," Clove said. "Right, Cato?"

"Yeah. Our meals always consist of a lot of meat, and hearty foods," Cato agreed. "Breakfast is usually some sort of stew with breads, while lunch is meat, roasted nuts, vegetables, fruits, rolls, stew and some sort of dessert. Dinner is more or less the same as lunch."

"Mm…" I hummed. "Sounds different but not entirely." I sighed, "I think I would have liked to see District 2, if I could. Although, I'd imagine it looks similar enough in building structure to District 3."

"Probably," Clove spoke, pushing two leaves toward Cato and I. "So, while I was getting us food what were the two of you doing? Besides being sickeningly gross."

"Nothing," Cato hissed, snatching some berries off of the leaves and chewing unhappily.

"Really? But the two of you were looking awfully cozy."

"Drop it Clove."

Surprisingly, the smaller dark-haired girl fell silent. The meal was quiet and altogether unsatisfying. Cato's stomach growls, and I push the remnants of my meal toward him. I sense his surprise and he looks at me questioningly, but after I give him a pointed look he doesn't resist. There's a ding and then several parachutes are floating down from the sky. Clove grabs one of them and then shoves all of them toward me.

 _How you doing sweetcheeks? Sorry, I've been talking too much to Finnich Odair. Anyways, you've got yourself some powerful allies birdie (for now), so as a thank-you for not dying yet and continuing to play nice with Two (keep that up by the way) here's some food. Share it with your allies._

\- _Aven_

I peered at the packages, a smile blossoming on my face when I saw bread from Three, roast beef, and stew. The three parachutes had the exact same food and so it was without hesitation that I gave one to Clove and one to Cato. Aven had specifically told me to share. Cato looked down at the food surprised and then turned to me, brushing his knuckles lightly over the skin of my cheek.

"Your mentor is not so bad after all," Clove mumbled as she ravenously ate the meal. "Who is he?"

"Aven Forrest," I said, sipping at the stew. "Victor of the 72nd Hunger Games."

"I think I remember his games," Cato recalled. "That was the rain forest, wasn't it?" I nodded. "He was one of the few District 3 tributes that hasn't used technology to win. What was his chosen weapon?"

"A spear I think," I shrugged. "I don't remember, and Aven didn't talk about it."

"Suppose it doesn't matter anyhow," Cato said, tearing into the roast beef. "Maybe we should save some of this for tomorrow."

Clove grumbled but acquiesced. I didn't protest; I had already set aside my meal, feeling full from the bread and the berries that I had eaten. I had yet to touch the stew or the roast beef. Clove stretched her arms over her head.

"I'm going to sleep. Don't kill me in my sleep," Clove chirped. "Oh, and Three, when I wake up you better still be here."

"Right," I murmured warily, watching her suspiciously as she curled up in her sleeping bag on the ground.

"She likes you," Cato murmured in my ear.

"I'm glad," I whispered. "We should probably sleep too, huh?"

He snorted, "You slept all day." I frowned and his thumb brushed over my lower lip, "Although you do look exhausted and we do need to hunt down Bitch on Fire. Probably shouldn't do that when one of our allies is almost dead. Go to sleep, I'll take watch. I wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to ambush us."

I conceded with a nod, stretching out beside him. The last thing I felt before I fell asleep was his thumb stroking soothing circles on my cheek.


	9. Chapter Eight

**T** he next day, I went hunting with Cato and Clove but we weren't able to find Katniss, Eleven or Five. Since we didn't find Katniss, we also didn't find Peeta. It didn't surprise me that the two were likely together; they were the "star-crossed lovers" from District 12 after all. By the next day Clove and Cato were getting irritated and were more snappy than usual. I didn't let their attitude get to me; they truthfully didn't mean any harm, and they were just frustrated because they couldn't get revenge on Katniss for destroying the supplies and decimating the pack. I leaned against a tree watching amusedly as Clove shouted at Cato and he shouted back. They were arguing over something stupid, and I could only find their little spat funny.

"Attention tributes!" A voice boomed through the arena, instantly silencing Cato and Clove. "There will be a feast at the Cornucopia at dawn! Now hold on, before you think about declining my attention because this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately which you will find in a backpack marked with your district number at the Cornucopia. Think hard about showing up because for some this will be your last chance."

"What could we possibly need?" Clove grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Something for the final showdown," Cato mentioned.

"You might run into Katniss there," I mentioned, seeing Clove's face light up at the prospect. "Peeta isn't dead, but Cato managed to injure him. So whatever Katniss needs is likely for him."

"And if she doesn't get her hands on the pack, Loverboy will die!" Clove crowed. "Perfect! Killing two birds with one stone!"

"What about Five and Eleven?" Cato questioned, folding his arms over his chest. "You can't go alone Clove, and if she sees me Bitch on Fire won't make an appearance."

Clove rolled her eyes, "That's why Three will come with me." I looked at her in surprise and Cato appeared as if he might protest. "Katbitch won't see Three as a threat, and if somehow she did manage to surprise me, you'd still end up with our pack." She smirked, "Don't worry, so much I'll protect your girl."

"Not if it risks your life," I blurted. The two looked at me and I sighed, "I can defend myself well enough. If it risks your safety, leave me behind Clove."

"Not a chance," Clove denied. "If I do that Cato will kill me, mark my words about that. Besides, you have a strategist's mind, don't you? You could help him kill Bitch on Fire."

I wanted to argue with her but the look in her eyes stopped me. It seems that her mind was already made up. For the rest of the day we spent time preparing for the feast. It was decided by Clove, that Cato would wait in the forest for us a few hundred feet away from the Cornucopia; close enough to help if things suddenly went wrong. The entire time we planned for the feast, no one mentioned Katniss or the inevitable turn that would happen once we rejoined. With Peeta and Katniss out of the picture it would bring the tribute pool down to Five, Eleven, Cato, Clove and I. With only five people left, it would only be a matter of time before I was eliminated. But that was something that we were all choosing to ignore.

As dawn neared, Clove began to grow more antsy. She was practically begging to go to the Cornucopia so she could get the jump on Katniss and kill her. At my side Cato laughed a little at her eagerness, fingers stroking my exposed arms. When dawn came Clove was more than ready to the Cornucopia but I was slower to follow her. I wasn't looking forward to seeing Katniss.

Cato grabbed me as I moved to follow Clove, his blue eyes darkened with worry. "Be careful," he whispered.

I nodded, and then Clove and I were off to the feast. The entire trek was silent, but there was no hiding the anxious energy that Clove was buzzing with or the sadistic gleam in her eyes. This was a moment that she was more than ready for and had been waiting for since the moment we had entered the arena. Clove's eyes narrowed, catching onto something in the distance that I didn't see and then she was shooting forward a knife firmly clenched in her fingers as she dove at a figure near the packs. I was slower to follow, shifting on my feet nervously and watching our surroundings warily. I noticed that Five's pack was gone, and Clove had Katniss with her pack pinned on the ground. The only participant that was missing was Eleven. That made me more nervous than I could possibly express.

Clove waved a knife teasingly in front of Katniss's face taunting her over Peeta. "Where's Loverboy?" Clove hissed. "Oh! I get it. That pack is for him, isn't it? You're going to help him, aren't you? Isn't that sweet?" She hummed.

I felt a presence behind me and I whirled around, stumbling back as I avoided a hit from Thresh's meaty fists.

"Too bad you couldn't help save your little friend," Clove continued, oblivious to what was happening. "What was her name? Rue? Yeah, well we killed her and now we're going to kill you."

That was all it took for Thresh to ignore my presence and go after Clove. He yanked her off of Katniss, a large rock clutched in his hand as he confronted her about Rue. I staggered away, a shaky hand going to the knife at my belt watching with wide and slightly disbelieving eyes as Katniss fled. Then he was bashing the rock into Clove's skull repeatedly as she screamed out for Cato. And me.

I reacted before I even realized what I was doing, whipping out a knife and throwing it clumsily at him. It wasn't the best throw, but it got his attention off of Clove who dropped to the ground listlessly, her skull looking like it was caved in. But then he was focused on me. I screamed as he rushed at me, holding the rock threateningly but he paused when he heard Cato's answering roar to Clove. He darted away, snagging his pack and then he took off. I slumped against the side of the Cornucopia breathing harshly, as Thresh retreated. Now more than ever, I realized how horribly unsuited to the Hunger Games I was. I had made one kill, and it was by sheer luck that I escaped becoming a victim.

Cato rushed into the clearing, hair tousled and eyes wild. A look of relief flashed across his face when he saw that I was okay but it quickly faded when he saw Clove lying limply on the ground, barely breathing. I was amazed that she had survived this long; his attack on her had been brutal. I stepped away from the two, giving them privacy as they spoke in hushed words. Cato squeezed Clove's hand and the instant he stepped back a cannon boomed, signifying that she was gone.

"Who was it?" he growled, barely restrained fury in his voice.

I hesitated and then said, "Thresh."

"I'm going to kill him."

I watched him warily as he paced, his features pulled down into a frown and his hand periodically clenching and unclenching on the hilt of his sword. Deciding that it was best to give him some space, I wandered over to the only two remaining packs. I grabbed the one marked with a number two on it, but didn't open it; that right was only reserved for Cato. I grabbed my pack, opening it and felt a smile tugging at my lips. In the pack was a scrap of paper, and I grabbed it unfurling it and eyeing the words.

 _This stuff wasn't cheap girlie. I had to coordinate with your boy's mentors to figure out what to get you and boy was it a damn pain in the ass. Are all people from Two emotionally stunted or something? Good luck._

\- _Aven_

I sifted through the bag, taking special note of the body armor, wires, a lighter, steel wool, and a few batteries. I grinned, taking great care to keep the batteries and the steel wool away from each other lest they ignite. I glanced over my shoulder, taking in the angry set of his shoulders and his clenched jaw. He was still so angry, and I figured that my presence wasn't wanted or needed. He needed to grieve for Clove on his own. I tossed the bag over to him, watching it land at his feet and then grabbed my own supplies.

Cold blue eyes watched my movements carefully. If I so much as moved wrong I didn't doubt that he would kill me now; whatever he had been harboring for me had faded in the light of Clove's death. To him, I bet that I was just another adversary. Just another person to kill before he could go home. I stepped away from him, and his eyes softened but he didn't move or speak. It was only after I was halfway toward the forest that he said something.

"Wait," I heard him call. I froze, spine stiffening as I heard rustling behind me and then jumped when I felt a warm hand rest at my lower back urging me forward. "Our alliance still stands, doesn't it?"

"For now, I suppose," I answered glancing up at him. "I guess we're going to go kill Thresh now, huh?" He just hummed, but didn't otherwise answer. That was all the response I needed. I added, "He went to the fields. I think that's where he's been hiding the whole time."

"Probably hoping we'd all just kill each other off so he doesn't have to do anything," Cato finally grumbled, glaring down at the ground.

"Perhaps," I muttered.

As we walked I couldn't help but analyze the relationship that I had with Cato. It was an odd one to be sure, because before we entered the arena we hadn't really talked much except in training where he had promised that he would kill me. He was a conundrum, I realized. Sometimes he could be nice and sweet, yet other times he was the typical Career from Two – cold, aggressive, and terribly possessive. I wasn't sure which Cato I liked more; I knew that both sides of him could kill me no matter how much affection he seemed to have for me. Truthfully, I wasn't quite sure what our relationship was. It was more than just him finding me attractive, I knew that, but I wasn't quite sure what it was exactly.

I suppose it didn't matter, not really. Maybe at one point it would have, but this was the Hunger Games. Any relationship we had or didn't have wouldn't matter, because one or both of us wouldn't be leaving the arena alive. We broke through the trees, standing at the edge of the wheat field. It made me nervous that I couldn't quite see Thresh, but I assumed that was because he had managed to find a hiding spot somewhere. Cato squeezed my arm drawing my attention to him.

"I'll be back," he told me, taking a few steps forward.

I seized his arm, "And what if Thresh comes this way? I won't be able to fight him off, Cato."

He tensed and slowly I withdrew my hand. "Yell for me and I'll come." He glanced down at me the hard expression on his face softening minutely. "I promise, Three. We have an alliance, I won't let you die if I can help it."

"Until the Games are almost over," I reminded him. "Then you're going to kill me and you'll be able to go home." I smirked, "I've known since the beginning I probably wouldn't make it out alive, and I'd rather have you kill me than anyone else."

He nodded, and then he was gone striding into the field to go kill Thresh. I knew he was only doing it now to avenge Clove; if Clove hadn't died perhaps he would have waited and the two of them would have drawn out the chase. But his partner was dead, and nothing, aside from killing Thresh, would avenge her; he wouldn't draw out the death. In honor of Clove, I think that he'd make it a brutal, bloody death. Quick but not painless.

I couldn't tell you how long I waited anxiously at the edge of the wheat field for Cato, but I knew that it was a long time. Darkness was starting to fall over the arena, when a cannon finally boomed and I jumped, eyes darting around nervously. Then he was walking out of the field, bruised and bloody but alive. I didn't approach him, I just watched. I didn't need him lashing out at me; not that I think he would, but he was a Career. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

"Are you okay?" I asked, managing to find my voice as he stalked toward me.

"He's dead," he said instead of answering my question.

"I thought so," I murmured, falling into step beside him as we headed off to find shelter. "I heard the cannon."

"And you didn't think it could have been me?"

"I was hoping that it wasn't you," I told him honestly. "We have an alliance, remember?"

His lips pulled into a half-hearted smirk, "Suppose. That's how you knew it wasn't me, then? Because we have an alliance?"

"Partly, and because you're Cato," I mumbled my voice getting softer with each word I spoke. "You wouldn't be killed by some guy from Eleven, no matter how big he is." My cheeks flushed.

"The faith you have in me is astounding," he drawled, leading me further into the forest as music played in the sky. "It was quick," he told me. "The death. Not the fight."

"I assumed," I told him, settling my sleeping bag on the cold earth. "I was waiting for quite awhile." He set his sleeping bag beside me, easily looping his arm around my shoulders and tugging me toward him. "But I figured you'd make the death as quick as you could."

"You assumed correctly," he told me, staring into the trees. "It's just us, Five, and Loverboy and Bitch on Fire left. You didn't think you'd make it this far, did you?" I shook my head. "Why? You aren't completely helpless and you seem able to hold your own just fine. So why didn't you think you'd make it this far?"

"At the start of the Games I was assuming that the Careers would be the most dangerous and last the longest," I said, fiddling with my fingers in my lap. "I figured that there would be a few surprises from the other Districts, but I knew that the Career pack would be the one to watch out for. Once Girl on Fire came into the picture, I realized just how likely it was that I wouldn't make it out alive. I had already known that from the time of my Reaping, but until then it hadn't seemed to be a reality." I leaned closer to him, unconsciously seeking out the warmth he provided and a pleased rumble emerged from his chest. "When we got into the arena, I knew I'd be lucky if I made it through the Bloodbath. Then I figured it would only be a matter of time before either I was hunted down by the Careers, or I got in the way of one of the other dangerous tributes. I was lucky when it came to the boy from Ten."

"Who did you have pegged to win?" he asked curiously, the grip he had on me tightening.

"You." I answered immediately. A pause and then I continued, "Until Katniss got the eleven from training. Then I realized she might be more of a threat than I had originally figured. So, then I thought it would come down to the two of you, but I still figured that you would come out on top."

"You don't plan on winning."

I snorted, "As if I could." A yawn escaped my mouth and I curled into him, "Unless by some miracle every tribute dies except me, I don't see any feasible way that I could win. Killing Ten was a stroke of luck on my part. I'm content that I made it this far."

"I'm not," he grunted. He dropped his head to nuzzle affectionately at my neck. "If only you were from Two or I was from Three. Then the both of us could win." His voice dropped, "I don't want to have to kill you."

"I know," I whispered back. "You'll make it quick though."

"I will," he nodded, lips brushing against the skin of my neck and causing me to shiver.

It was something that didn't go unnoticed by Cato and I felt him smile against my neck. I couldn't call this feeling love, but I couldn't dismiss it either. It was less than love but more than just plain old attraction or an infatuation. It was too bad that I wouldn't get to find out what it was, but for now I would treasure what moments I had left with Cato. I yawned again, curling closer to him – or trying to at least – and I heard him chuckle, his lips moving from the back of my neck to my jaw. I whined, in protest as he nipped at my jaw and I felt his lips curl up into another smirk and then his lips were on mine. The kiss was astonishingly gentle, something I hadn't quite expected from Cato and it was chaste. As far as first kisses went, it was nice. Safe, even.

The second kiss was the exact opposite. His lips pressed against mine with a bruising force, eliciting a whimper from my mouth as he deepened the kiss, nipping at my lips and twining his fingers into my hair. Somehow, we fell back against the ground, Cato hovering over me his lips never leaving mine. I gasped arching into him, when his hand slipped under the tee and jacket I was wearing. But we weren't going to go any further than this, not with the whole Capitol and practically the rest of Panem watching. Cato pulled away, after a few more kisses each one lingering longer than the rest. I laid still on the ground panting, and still trying to process what had just happened. I relaxed when Cato's arms wrapped around me once more, pulling me to his chest.

"Sleep," he commanded me gently.

And I did.


	10. Chapter Nine

**O** ver the next few days, nothing had really happened. The girl from Five had done, leaving it down to me, Cato, and the couple from Twelve. The end of the Games was nearing and I was finding it difficult to disguise my nervousness. No matter how calm and cool he appeared, I knew that Cato was nervous too. After the death of the girl from Five it had rained for two days, and it had only recently ceased but bizarrely the streams were all empty. Cato theorized it was because there were only four of us left, and they wanted the final confrontation to be at the Cornucopia. Our movements that day were slow and unhurried, and we managed to make it halfway to the Cornucopia before dark. The body armor I was wearing felt strange and heavy on me, and I felt uncomfortable. But Cato, in his armor emblazoned with a two on the shoulder, looked irritatingly comfortable and confident. His bag was slung over his shoulder, and the only weapon he held on him was his sword; he had a back-up knife in the bag, but I doubted he would use it. The sword was clearly his favorite weapon of choice.

After the day Thresh died, Cato had become a little more withdrawn. He still talked to me, and was affectionate but something in his mannerisms was different. I stared at him, a frown lightly pulling at my lips. The Games were breaking him. They were breaking all of us, it seemed. I wrapped my arms around my middle and opened my mouth to make a sarcastic comment when I was interrupted by a howl. The two of us froze, muscles tensing.

"Run."

He didn't need to tell me twice. He took off like a shot heading for the Cornucopia and I was a lot slower to follow. I had come from District 3, where we didn't train for this and physical activity – despite being in the arena for at least two weeks – was something that I was still horribly unused to. I nearly tripped over my feet, as I shadowed Cato who was already climbing onto the Cornucopia by the time I got there. I jumped scrabbling for a handhold, the breath of the mutts hot on my back. Cato wrapped his hand around my arm, pulling me onto the Cornucopia beside him just as Girl on Fire and Loverboy arrived, barely missing the teeth of the muttations. Cato grabbed Peeta, putting the blade of the sword to his neck, as the mutts tried to scrabble on top of the Cornucopia. Thankfully, the metal was entirely too slick, so they were left pacing and growling on the ground.

I dropped my bag at my feet, eyes darting between Cato and Katniss.

"I can do it," Cato mumbled. "I can kill you and him and then I can go home."

"What about her?" Katniss jerked her head toward me, and I turned my gaze to Cato. "You going to kill her too?"

He didn't answer, and that hurt more than if he had just admitted it. Then he said, "I wouldn't have a choice. You won't have a choice either. Come on, you think they'd let there be two Victors?" He barked out a harsh, mad laugh his grip on Peeta's neck tightening.

"I'm not going to let them hurt Peeta," Katniss snapped, but there was something in her eyes that told me her intentions weren't as pure as they might look. "He's already hurt, I'm not going to let him be hurt more." It was then I noticed that Peeta's leg was bleeding. "I'll kill you and Three, and then Peeta and I can go home."

I hoped I wasn't the only one who noticed the slight waver in her voice or the way her hands shook as she pulled back the bowstring. She pivoted on her heel to face me, and that was all it took for Cato to push Peeta at the brunette's feet and grab me, pushing his body slightly in front of mine. She smirked, and I tensed at the cold, hard look in the girl from Twelve's eyes.

"You don't get to hurt her," Cato growled an animalistic quality to his voice. His hand tightened around the hilt of the sword, his eyes narrowing on the two lovers from Twelve.

Lightly I rested my hand against his lower back, lending him my silent support. My eyes flickered to Katniss. "Seems like we're at an impasse," I piped up, eyes going to Cato as he shifted slightly in front of me once Girl on Fire had looked at me. "He's going to protect me and you're going to protect Peeta, but neither of you are willing to abandon protecting one of us to go after the other. So, what now?"

Katniss looked at the two of us and then her eyes locked on me. "I think that you're wrong."

I cocked my head to the side not understanding and then she let an arrow fly, striking Cato in the shoulder and sending him stumbling back. Into me. I shrieked, losing my balance, tipping over the Cornucopia and falling to the ground right into the pack of mutts.

"Larka!" I heard Cato's voice.

Jaws locked around my leg drawing a scream from my throat and wildly I lashed out with the knife, batting the mutt away. Something about the eyes seemed familiar to me and then I caught sight of the collar.

 _Micro._

These were the dead tributes.

I noticed a small, lithe looking wolf stalking near the others not attacking me yet not defending me either. Before I could ponder that the pack was upon me, jaws and claws sinking through the material of the body armor and into my skin. I screamed, my voice breaking midway and stumbled to the ground, trying to shield my face and my neck as they tore into me with a vicious ferocity. I no longer had the energy to fight back. All I could do was curl into myself trying to protect myself as best as I could.

Then suddenly I wasn't alone. Like a guardian angel, Cato was there batting back the mutts and cutting them down with a ferocity and anger in his eyes that I had never seen before. Not even when he decided that he would go after Thresh for killing Clove. One of the mutts, upon catching sight of Cato yipped, familiar dark eyes lighting up and then she was participating in the kills and even through all of the pain I was feeling I couldn't help but smile, because that was Clove. A large hulking mutt, jumped at Cato but with a quick flick of his wrist and a flash of the sword the mutt stumbled back bright red blood dripping onto the ground.

There were still too many mutts for Cato, and it would only be a matter of time before they organized and we were overwhelmed and killed. On shaky limbs, I managed to crawl back into the mouth of the Cornucopia, and then I fell against the ground a whimper escaping my lips. That little noise is all it takes to draw Cato's attention and then he's easing back, still keeping a defensive position in front of me and warding off any wolf-mutts that get too close. My vision began to get blurry, and I coughed, my ribs and side protesting in agony. I spit blood onto the ground, trying in vain to rid myself of the metallic iron taste. Needless to say, it didn't work.

"Larka," Cato said my name his voice urgent. "Larka, stay awake."

"I am awake," I slurred, blinking slowly. "Barely."

"It's okay," he told me, batting away another mutt that got too close.

"I know," I laughed weakly, my chest and lungs burning. "I was going to die anyways. I just didn't think it would be this painful."

"You are not dying," Cato growled.

"I am," I muttered, wincing as a mutt managed to slip by Cato and headed toward me. It was only a split second later that it was lying on the ground, dying. Just like me. "Even if you beat the mutts, I'm still going to die. Katniss won't let me live."

"She's such a bitch," Cato snapped, cleaving another mutt in half.

I hummed in agreement. "Look at it this way. Your odds of winning just went up."

"It's not funny Larka!" he snapped, his voice sounding thick as if he was fighting back tears. I didn't answer, my head falling onto the ground. The world tipped and spun on its axis and I shivered, my teeth chattering as cold seeped into my bones. "Larka!"

I hummed.

"Larka!" Cato spun around to face me, turning his back on the mutts. "Larka, dammit, I told you to stay awake!"

"It's okay," I slurred eyelids drooping, as he faced off against the mutts again. "I was going to die anyways. We both knew this Cato. It was fun while it lasted, right?" He didn't answer too busy defending against the mutts. "Was nice." My fingers clenched in the grass weakly. "Wish it could have been different."

"Larka!" Cato snapped, turning back to me again. This time his voice was edged with panic, but it didn't register in my mind. Not even when the mutts descended on him, tearing into him.

His screams rang in my ears, and he fell beside me, breathing heavily but still alive. Somehow. Barely. He brushed my hair back from my clammy skin, thumb smoothing the skin of my cheek and smearing blood on my skin. I don't know how he had come out of the pack alive. My eyes darted over to the mutts prowling by the entrance of the Cornucopia, as if waiting for an opportunity to strike.

"Larka." He whispered, his voice sounding broken.

I smiled weakly, "Kill me."

"No." He snapped, splaying his body across my rapidly weakening one. "I can't lose you like I lost Clove," he murmured. He nuzzled at my ear, "I was going to kill you. I could have killed you and I swear I was going to, when the time came."

"But now?"

"Now I don't want to," he mumbled, his voice muffled against my hair. "I don't want you to die like this. You deserve more than this." He inhaled shakily, "Bitch on Fire is going to pay."

He continued talking to me, but I didn't hear any of it. Darkness roared up to meet me, and I lost all sense of reality, time, and feeling as I faded into it.


	11. Part Two

**_Part Two_**

Everything is going to be alright. Maybe not today, but eventually. Hope is a driving factor in helping us stay on course in life. It may feel as though it comes and goes, but in reality, there is always hope. There is always a chance for something else to happen, and you need to have faith that it will.

\- Unknown


	12. Chapter Ten

**I** don't know what I expected when I woke up, but it certainly wasn't to be lying in a Capitol hospital bed, with nurses and doctors checking my vitals and Aven standing crossly in the back of the room his arms folded over his chest. Panic flooded my body, and I looked around confused my heart pounding rapidly in my chest. I stayed silent until the nurses and doctors left and then I spoke.

"What happened?" I croaked my voice hoarse and dry.

"Something that usually doesn't," he informed me dryly. "There were not one, not two, but four Victors of the 74th Hunger Games. Can you guess who? No, well let me tell you, you stupid girl. You, Cato, Katniss, and Peeta won. Don't ask me how, don't ask me why. For some reason, the Capitol loved your interactions with their big bad favorite Career, and that's what saved you."

"Cato's alive?" I questioned and he rolled his eyes.

"Is that the only thing that you caught from what I said?" He sighed, "Yes your lover is alive." He shook his head irritably, "I hate to say it but it would have been better if you had died."

"Why?"

"The Games are supposed to have one Victor, not four. It helps to keep order, and that order has been upset," Aven informed me. "The President isn't happy," he shook his head again clearly exasperated, "but I know that you didn't mean to do it. Doesn't make it any easier to swallow."

"Where's Cato?"

Aven smiled, patting my leg. "You'll see him at the post-Game interview," he told me a softer look on his face. "Are you in love with him?"

"I don't know. Maybe." I swallowed, "I think, with more time I could be." I looked up at Aven my eyes teary, "I don't know if I can call it love. But I can say that I don't want to live in a world where he doesn't exist. Sounds stupid, I bet, since we haven't known each other for very long but…" I trailed off unable to finish.

"You were in the Hunger Games, darling. The normal constraints of a relationship don't matter," Aven told me sounding amused. He eyed me, "Get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

Then I slept. The next time I woke up, Aven and Beetee were in the room discussing something in low dulcet tones. When they noticed I had woken, Beetee had excused himself saying that he needed to check on Wiress but Aven stayed, watching me carefully.

"Your lover's been causing quite a commotion," he informed me, and my eyes widened in surprise. "He's been fighting to see you. Literally," He snorted. "Last I heard, he had knocked out a Peacekeeper or two." He shook his head, "You really know how to pick them."

"I didn't plan it!" I defended myself weakly. "It just happened."

"I know, I'm just messing with you," he chuckled weakly. "Don't worry, you'll be able to see your boy in a few days."

"How many?"

"Two."

I took a deep breath. So, I had forty-eight hours until I saw Cato, and forty-eight hours until I would face Katniss, Peeta, the rest of Panem and President Snow. Forty-eight hours until I had to watch the 74th Hunger Games and relive what had happened. I swallowed, picking at the linen blanket covering me.

"You seem different," I noted gaze flickering toward Aven. "More cagey. What's wrong?"

"I've been hanging out with Finnick Odair too often," Aven said mustering a smile that seemed fake. "Just relax, Larka. Focus on getting better and reuniting with your boy." His smile turned more genuine, "He's aching to see you, you know. Don't doubt that."

I nodded unable to reply. Without saying another word to me, Aven left but promised that he'd be back. It was difficult, I found, separating what was reality and what was fiction and it was even more difficult trying to process that I was okay. That I was safe in the Capitol and that I hadn't died in the arena. Sometimes, I thought I was still in there and I would only snap out of it when Aven's voice reached me or the Peacekeepers intervened and then I'd be horrified and crying for the rest of the day. I couldn't seem to escape the Hunger Games, because they had broken me. I wondered briefly if they had broken Cato too. I think they had, but he wouldn't admit it or maybe they hadn't because he was Cato and he had been training for the Hunger Games his whole life.

I sighed, burrowing into the blankets and staring unseeingly at the white wall. I wanted to go home back to District 3, or at least to District 3's floor but they refused to release me from the hospital yet. I had heard that Cato and Katniss had both been released but they were forbidden from seeing myself or Peeta. I was jealous that they got to go, but I figured that meant they were handling the trauma much better than I was. Maybe this was what Annie Cresta felt like, I thought. That night the door to my room slid open and I jerked up, expecting it to be Aven but my face filled with surprise when I saw that it was bronze-haired Finnick Odair, a Victor from District 4. Behind him, hovered a much smaller form that I immediately deduced was Annie Cresta.

"Hello," Finnick smiled pleasantly at me. Then his eyes narrowed as he looked at me, "Damn, Aven wasn't kidding when he said that you looked like hell warmed over."

"Finnick!" A soft voice whispered from behind him.

His whole countenance softened, "Sorry, Annie." He regarded me a little warily as he spoke, "Aven said that you're having trouble adjusting to life outside of the arena. Mind me asking why?"

"You've been through the Hunger Games, you know why," I answered my voice monotone. I wasn't sure why he was here and it puzzled me, yet I did welcome the human interaction. Craved it even. "I thought I was dead. I'm supposed to be dead." I fisted my hands in the blanket, tears blurring my vision and I felt frustrated at the show of weakness. I turned my eyes to Finnick expecting amusement or condescension in his eyes but instead all I saw was understanding. "I don't know what's real or what's fake anymore."

Finnick hummed, "Understandable. The Games mess with everyone." He tugged Annie forward, out from behind his body. Her wide sea green eyes stared at me, filled with curiosity and something else. "Sometimes Annie has trouble too, but eventually you'll adjust and figure it out." He smiled crookedly, "It helps if you have support from your mentors and your friends." He looked around the room, "Want to play a game?"

"Finnick," Annie hissed again, her tone admonishing. He smiled down at her, his face softening into something that I had only seen when Cato looked at me. She then turned to me, smiling brilliantly. "Do you know how to play checkers?"

I nodded.

"I'll bring some!" She beamed happily. Then stared at me, her expression falling, "If I can come again. I can come again, right? Finnick, can I?"

In many ways, Annie Cresta reminded me of a child. But she also reminded me, of myself. I saw me in her haunted eyes.

"I don't know," Finnick murmured, stroking her hair affectionately and giving me a warning look. I wasn't sure why. "I suppose that's up to Larka."

For the first time since I woke up I smiled, "I'd like that."

Annie grinned, clapping her hands excitedly and then Finnick was dragging her out the door after wishing me a hasty goodbye. I watched them go the smile still on my face, until they disappeared from view and then just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The next day, thankfully Annie and Finnick came back with a checker board. I grinned, swinging my legs over the bed as Finnick dragged over a small foldable table as Annie set the game up.

"I'll be black and you can be white," she told me primly.

I smiled in relief that the checkers weren't the typical colors of black and red. I didn't know how I would handle that. The first game we played was over rather quickly with Annie winning. I blamed Finnick, because he was helping her. He grinned smugly at me from where he was sitting beside Annie, as she set the game up again. They were sitting entirely too close to be friends, and I figured that they must be lovers. Or at the very least, he must love her.

"This is nice," I murmured, flipping over one of my pieces and marking it as a king. "I can't remember when the last time I played checkers was."

"I only play checkers with Finnick," Annie informed me, jumping over one of my pieces. "But I don't like playing with him. He always wins."

"I've offered to let you win before Annie, and you get mad at me," Finnick interjected smiling playfully at her. The quiet, girl only rolled her eyes but didn't respond. He sighed, directing his next comment to me, "She's so frustrating, isn't she Larka?" He shook his head in mock anger and Annie giggled.

"I like her," I decided, jumping over two of her pieces, as Finnick looked at me in surprise. Even Annie seemed a little thrown off. I looked up from the board, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," He answered his own voice soft, as his eyes looked at Annie and then me. "You didn't."

I won that game. We played three more before the two had to go, and I managed to win two of those while Annie won once. After they left I crawled back into bed, going back to staring at the white walls. It was after dinner time – a meal consisting of broth and a small roll – that Aven walked into the room. This was the first time that I had seen him all day and I raised my brows, looking at him but I didn't ask where he had been. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know.

"You look better," he noted. "Less white."

"What about it?" I asked crossly, folding my arms over my chest defensively.

"Means your lover won't worry so much when he sees you," Aven told me. "The day after tomorrow is the post-Game interview with Caesar, remember?" I shook my head and his eyes widened. "Really? Beetee told me that you had a nearly photographic memory."

"I do." I paused and then corrected myself, "Did." I shrugged, "I don't know anymore. I just don't remember you telling me that."

I felt a little angry at myself and Aven smiled comfortingly at me, "It's okay Larka, it's okay. I probably just forgot to tell you and thought that I had. Don't worry about it."

I nodded but couldn't help but feel like he wasn't telling the whole truth. "So, I can see Cato soon?"

"Yes, Larka you can see Cato soon and he'll be very happy to see you." He smiled.

"Ecstatic," I corrected narrowing my eyes at him. "Happy implies that he'll just be feeling glad, but ecstatic implies that and more. Like, it's all that he'll be able to think about."

"It is all he's thinking about," he pointed out to me. "I've seen him. Trust me girlie, all he's thinking about is you."

"Girlie…" I mumbled. "Didn't you send me a note with that word on it, in the arena?" My eyebrows furrowed over my head. "It was…it was…" I trailed off, my eyes filling with tears as flashes of the arena entered my mind.

And then it was like I could feel the teeth tearing into me again and I could hear Cato's pained shouts, and I screamed. Vaguely I could hear Aven's panicked voice speaking to me but it sounded like it was coming from the end of the tunnel, and it sounded muffled like there was something blocking it. Then everything went black. When my eyes next fluttered open, I was disoriented. The last thing I remembered was talking to Aven. Looking around the room I could see he was gone and there was a Peacekeeper in the corner of the room, something that admittedly made me a little nervous.

The door slid open and Aven slipped in followed by a smiling Finnick and a concerned Annie who was holding a vase full of flowers. Annie smiled, bounding over – really, she was skipping – and put the vase on the table beside my bed, just slightly out of reach. She stroked the petals of the flowers, her expression growing vacant but then she blinked and smiled at me.

"The flowers are daffodils, freesias, and hydrangeas," Annie informed me. "It's a feel better gift, right Finnick?" He nodded, smiling down at the brunette fondly. "Daffodils are indicative of rebirth and new beginnings, freesias symbolize innocence and thoughtfulness, and hydrangeas represent heartfelt emotions or gratitude." She smiled, "I think so, anyways. I'm not quite sure."

"Thank you, Annie," I whispered. "They're beautiful."

"I'm glad you like them!"

The three visited me for a little while but soon Finnick and Annie had to go, leaving me alone with Aven who was watching me carefully. When they were gone I turned to look at Aven, a hopeful expression on my face.

"I get to see Cato tomorrow, don't I?" I asked. The light feeling in my chest dissipated when he shook his head. "Why not?" I demanded my eyes filling with tears. "You told me I'd be able to!"

"Some people don't think that it's a good idea," Aven told me bluntly. His eyes softened when he noticed the tears rolling down my face. "After the interviews, I'll bring him in to see you okay."

"No!" I protested. "I want to be there! I want to see him!"

"Sh, Larka," Aven crossed the room holding me in his arms gently as he tried to soothe me. The action puzzled me but I didn't dwell on it. "I'll talk it over with the President. Then we'll see."

I frowned but didn't argue with him. Arguing got me nowhere, I had learned. However, it didn't mean I couldn't pout like a little kid who didn't get her way, which was what I ended up doing. Aven laughed, ruffling my hair and then promised he would try to get me to see Cato tomorrow. I nodded, still frowning. For now, I suppose that was good enough for me.

 _Please, Aven. I need to see him. Without him, I feel lost._

* * *

Aven didn't come back until the next day and by that point I was nearly sick because I was so anxious and nervous. He walked into the room no expression on his face and my heart dropped, expecting the worse but then he smiled, his expression and eyes softening.

"They said you can attend the interview and see Cato. But there will be Peacekeepers on standby," he mumbled, his voice coming out a little angry at the last part.

I didn't answer, just smiled happily. When it neared time for the interviews I was nervous about being prepped by a stylist but then Annie had walked into the room with Finnick trailing behind her, carrying a simple dress and heels and instantly I relaxed. Annie made Finnick leave while I dressed and when I was done he came back in, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed kicking his feet and chattering about stupid things that didn't make sense to me. Annie brushed through my hair, and then her fingers were combing through my hair pulling strands gently as she plaited it, humming something underneath her breath that made me relax.

"You look so pretty," Annie murmured softly. Her voice was so quiet that if I hadn't been paying attention, I would have missed it.

"Thank you An," I whispered. "You look pretty too."

"But I'm dressed like I always am!" She said sounding confused and I heard Finnick laugh.

"Yeah, but you're always pretty," I told her glancing at her over my shoulder. "Thank you for doing this Annie, I appreciate it."

She beamed back at me, and that was her only reply before her eyes got a little hazy. Then Finnick was dragging her out of the room, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and leaving me completely and utterly alone. It was only a short while later that Aven slipped into the room, a small smile on his face when he saw me. Like Annie had, he told me I looked pretty. He grabbed my hand, gently pulling me to my feet and I swayed in the two-inch heels trying to regain my balance. It had been so long since I had walked and it was a strange feeling getting used to again on the short walk to the stage. The silk fabric of the dress I was wearing lightly brushed against my skin, and I looked down at it. Green. A color that would match my hair and more specifically my eyes, but it also served to remind me of the green forests of the arena.

I inhaled sharply, squeezing my eyes shut as I fought back tears. I could feel Aven's eyes on me and then he was pulling me into a hug like I had often seen Finnick do with Annie. I wanted to press my hands over my ears because suddenly everything seemed too loud but my arms were pinned to my side as Aven tried to hush me.

"Larka, can you handle this?" Aven asked, looking down at me.

"I don't know," I whispered my voice hoarse.

"Okay. Come on we'll go back to your room."

"No!" I nearly shrieked ripping myself away from his grip. "Please Aven don't make me go back to that stupid room! Please."

He sighed, "Then what do you want to do?"

"I want to see Cato."

"Can you handle the interview?" He asked crossing his arms as he stared at me. I didn't answer. "If you can't and you can't handle seeing your Games, you'll have to wait to see Cato. So can you?"

"I'm going to try."

"Either do or don't," he snapped.

"I will," I said my voice bordering on whiny and pathetic. "I have to."

"Good." He nodded although he couldn't quite disguise the worry in his eyes or in his posture. "I'll be waiting here the whole time. Soon Caesar will begin the interview and he'll call each of the Victors onto the stage." I nodded showing him that I understood his words and he sighed once more. "If you need me, I'll be here the whole time."

I only nodded again. Affectionately he ruffled my hair, and then we stood in the wings waiting for Caesar to begin. I noticed that I hadn't seen Cato, Katniss (not something I was looking forward to) or even Peeta. I patted unruly strands of my hair, shifting on my feet anxiously.

"The 74th Hunger Games ended with quite a bang, didn't they folks?" I heard Caesar's voice began quite loudly over the speakers and I flinched. "It's about time we talk to the Victors themselves, right? So, without further ado, we have our first pair Cato Hadley from District 2 and Larka Everhill from District 3!"

The crowd erupted in cheers as Cato emerged from the wings, blue eyes keenly searching for me. But I was frozen in place until Aven not so gently nudged me and I stumbled onto the stage my eyes locked on Cato. Upon seeing me he seemed to relax and then we were meeting in the middle of the stage, his arms wrapped like a vice around my waist as he held me to him. I could vaguely hear Caesar introducing Katniss and Peeta, but I was more preoccupied with the man in front of me. He cupped my cheek with one hand, his eyes searching mine and he leaned toward me touching his forehead to mine.

"You're okay," he breathed. I only nodded, unable to speak. His lips pressed against my forehead, then my jaw, my cheeks, my nose, and he ended on my lips. His mouth brushed against mine, softly tentatively as if he was afraid that if he applied too much pressure I would break. "They wouldn't let me see you and Aven said that you were still in the hospital, and God do you have any idea of how worried I was?" He exhaled shakily, his lips brushing against mine briefly. "Missed you."

"Sorry," I apologized meekly, my cheeks flushing when he huffed out a laugh.

"Well," Caesar said breaking through our little bubble, "that was quite a reunion wasn't it folks?" The Capitol audience tittered. Slowly Cato and I migrated over to the couches, and my eyes widened at how Katniss was draped over Peeta. Once we were settled Caesar continued, "How are all of you feeling?"

Peeta spoke up first, "Pretty good, I'd say Caesar. Boy did I miss the food here."

I didn't answer instead choosing the nuzzle my face into the crook of Cato's neck. In response, his arm around my waist tightened as he replied to Caesar's question. Katniss's answer sounded robotic and I huffed out an irritated breath.

"And what about you Larka? How are you feeling?" Caesar questioned, and I frowned disappointed that I wasn't able to avoid the question like I so wanted to.

"Tired." I murmured, my face pressing against Cato's neck. "I've been in the hospital since…since I woke up."

Caesar hummed but didn't question me anymore over how I was feeling. Caesar, Peeta, and Cato bantered playfully back and forth for the longest time and then it was time to watch the Games. I tensed as the images came up on the screen and firmly buried my face in Cato's shoulder refusing to look at the images that were being shown. It didn't matter. I could still hear everything that was going on. With each scream that crackled through the air or each noise that was just a touch too loud, I would flinch. Before I knew it, the interview had wrapped up, with Caesar directing most of the questions toward Peeta and Cato. We walked off the stage, Cato's hand firmly pressed against my lower back and met Aven who was standing there with a concerned look in his eyes.

His eyes flickered to Cato, "I'll take her from here, Cato."

"No." Cato refused, shaking his head. "This is the first time I've seen her in days."

Aven smirked, "Didn't think you cared for her that much." Cato didn't rise to the bait and Aven sighed. "Fine you can come, just don't be yourself." He waved vaguely at Cato's body. Then he looked at me, his eyes softening. "How ya doing squirt?"

"You're hanging out too much with Finnick," I muttered following him into the elevator, Cato a shadow at my back.

"I'd dare say so are you, if that comment didn't even cause you to blush," Aven answered in returned and behind me Cato tensed.

"Whenever Annie visits, Finnick is always with her." I muttered, leaning against Cato who wrapped an arm around my waist. "I've grown used to his ostentatious displays of affection and his flamboyant personality."

"Aw, look at you using big words again!" Aven cooed, pinching my cheek which elicited a growl from Cato. I didn't answer, just hummed and fell silent. Still, it was the most conversation Aven had gotten out of me since I woke up. Aven grinned, "You ready to go home soon, kid?"

I shrugged, feeling Cato's grasp around my waist tighten. "How soon?" he asked tensely.

"Soon." Aven answered. He sighed, looking at the Career (or was he a former Career now?) behind me warily. "Snow decided that she's not coming on the Victory Tour," he said changing the subject.

"What?" there was fury in Cato's voice.

"He doesn't think she's ready and neither do I," Aven replied with a careless shrug. "Frankly, I don't think it's any concern of yours. Do you even love her?"

"I don't see how that is any of your business Sparky," Cato said coldly.

Aven didn't answer and I sighed. Surprisingly, this was the most normal I had felt since I had woken up and it was a nice if not disconcerting feeling. The elevator stopped on the second floor and Aven sent a pointed look Cato's way. But he didn't move. I looked between the two sighing. We were at a stalemate.

"Cato, I'll see you later." I mumbled, stepping away from his comforting warmth.

I could sense his frown without having to even look at him. But I can also sense his grudging acceptance, and so with a kiss at my temple and a stern look toward Aven he exits the elevator. When he's gone I sigh and turn to Aven.

"What happens now?"

"Now, you focus on getting better. Let me worry about the Victory Tour and everything else."

"Okay."

Because what else could I say?


	13. Chapter Eleven

**Thanks to commediadellarte for being one of my most frequent reviewers. I hope you enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

 **G** etting better, was harder than it sounded or seemed because for starters, I didn't know why I had to get better. Okay, that was a lie. I did know; the Games had messed with my mentality and I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder but, I didn't know how to fix it and no matter how many doctors and facilities Aven sent me to, nothing helped. The only time that I was even mildly better was when I was with Cato, and those moments were few and far in between. The Games had ended about two months ago, and in those two months I had seen Cato a total of maybe three or four times. It didn't help that he was being prepped for the Victory Tour which would begin in a few months. I sighed shifting in the uncomfortable plastic chair, teeth chewing at my bottom lip. The door to the room opened and in walked my newest therapist – a petite woman with electric orange hair and a beaming smile named Mira – followed by several Peacekeepers and then someone I had not seen since the interviews.

President Snow.

Let me start by saying, I had no idea why he would want to see me. I had heard the rumors circulating around the Capitol and also the Distircts. They said I was the next Annie Cresta, just slightly less insane. Since that seemed to be what I was known for – instead of being a Victor of the 74th Games – I couldn't fathom why he was choosing to visit me now.

"Larka, do you know who this is?" Mira asked in her sickly-sweet voice. It was meant to soothe me but right now all it did was irritate me.

I nodded, my eyes darting to the President who was watching me with interest. "President Snow," I mumbled.

Mira smiled, "Good. Do you know why he's here?" I shook my head. "He's here to check on your progress, since you arrived." She sighed, "Let's move on. Have you had any more dreams recently?" I stiffened. "Have they changed at all?"

"No," I fiddled with my fingers. She should know that. No matter how many times she asked me that question, my dreams never changed. It was the same dream over and over and over. Nothing I could do would get rid of it.

"What about your other dreams, Larka? Do you want to talk about them?" She prompted after a short period of silence.

"My dreams are the same. They don't change. The only thing that changes is the order in which they occur. Some nights it will be the mutts, and other times I'll dream of the trackerjackers or Katniss killing me," I shrugged, looking up from my lap and at her. "They don't change."

"Okay," she typed something out on her tablet. "And, the flashbacks?"

"Better."

"How so?" I stiffened and she smiled at me comfortingly. It only succeeded in putting me more on edge. "You can talk here, Larka. It's a safe space."

"Where's Cato?" I asked instead. "I want Cato."

Mira sighed, "Not here. He's preparing for the Victory Tour. We talked about this yesterday, Larka."  
I paused. Oh, we had. "Sorry I forgot."

It was a pathetic apology at best but it seemed to do the trick because Mira just smiled and assured me that it was okay and normal that I would forget, since I was so busy here. I wanted to snort and ask how exactly I was busy, but the President's stifling presence in the room made me rethink that. Instead I just nodded and offered another meek apology, while Mira assured me that it was okay.

"Ok, so the flashbacks?" she prompted again. When I didn't answer she sighed, "You don't want to talk about them?" I shook my head. "That's fine, Larka. We don't have to talk about them, yet." She typed something out on her tablet. "Remember the exercise we've been working on to ground yourself?" I nodded. "Has that helped you at all?"

"Yeah. When I have the flashbacks," I muttered.

Mira smiled, "Good, good. Do you remember what you say?"

I hummed an affirmative, and she gestured for me to recite it. "My name is Larka Everhill. I'm the Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. My mentor was Aven. My favorite color is blue. I'm in love."

"Good. And all of those statements are true, yes?" Another nod from me. "Good, good. Let's see, what else should we talk about? We've talked about your dreams, flashbacks, and grounding." She tapped her stylus against her chin in thought, "Are you ready to talk about your Games yet, Larka?"

I almost froze. Did I? No, I really, really didn't want to talk about my Games. In fact, I'd rather pretend that they hadn't happened at all but that wasn't an option for me since I had been one of the Victors. I swallowed, looking down at the floor my heart pounding harshly in my chest and my palms sweaty. I blinked, seeing flashes of red and green and blue eyes. Cato's shouting filled my ears and I curled up into a ball on the chair holding my hands against my ears in an attempt to block out the shouts.

 _My name is Larka Everhill. I'm a Victor of the 74_ _th_ _Hunger Games. My mentor was Aven. My favorite color is blue. I'm in love with Cato,_ I thought. I repeated the sentences over and over again in my head until slowly, the sounds and colors began to fade and I realized I was in a hospital room in the Capitol and Mira was sitting in front of me.

"It's okay Larka," she cooed. "Do you know where you are?"

"The Capitol," I croaked, slowly straightening out my posture and lowering my hands so that they once more rested in my lap. "Where's Cato? I want Cato."

"Cato's preparing for the Victory Tour, sweetheart," Mira gently reminded me.

Right. I knew that. At least, I think I had known that at one point but I just forgot. I think. I didn't know anymore. I sniffled, wiping the remnants of tears from my eyes and stared at Mira waiting for her to ask me more questions. In our sessions, we never ended up getting very far. She always asked the same questions and I gave the same answers, and nothing ever changed. We were at a stalemate. An impasse. I frowned, looking down at the ground.

Impasse?

I inhaled sharply. The Cornucopia with Katniss. That was what I said. The moment flashed in my head. _"Seems like we're at an impasse," I had piped up, eyes going to Cato as he shifted slightly in front of me once Girl on Fire had turned her eyes to me. "He's going to protect me and you're going to protect Peeta, but neither of you are willing to abandon protecting one of us to go after the other. So, what now?"_

"She tried to kill me," I muttered.

Mira looked at me, "What was that Larka?"

"Katniss," I tested her name out on my tongue. "Bitch on Fire," I added a smile curling my lips slightly as I used Clove's rather infamous nickname for the girl from Twelve. Out of my peripheral vision I could see President Snow shifting his weight, his beady snake-like eyes locked on me. "She tried to kill me. On the Cornucopia."

Mira nodded, "She did. Do you remember what happened?"

"Impasse," I murmured. "I said that we were at an impasse because she was going to proect Peeta and Cato was going to protect me. She fired at Cato, but she was aiming for me I think. Maybe she wasn't. But Cato stumbled and…" I paused frowning, and trying to push the flashbacks to the back of my mind. "I fell."

"You did," Mira confirmed. "But it's okay Larka, you're here in the Capitol and you are safe."

"Safe," I echoed. "I feel safest when I'm with Cato."

"Cato." Mira smiled. "The boy from Two, one of the other Victors." Another nod from me. "He'll be here to visit you, I'm sure. Do you want to keep telling me what you remember?"

"No." I looked at my lap. "I don't want to remember because then I remember _her_ and I don't want to."

"Who?" Mira prompted me typing out on her tablet, her eyes watching me with a soft look.

"Katniss," I mumbled. "I don't want to remember because then I remember her and I don't want to do that. Make it stop."

"I can't do that, honey. That's just something you'll have to do on your own." I frowned. Mira reached out and patted my knee, her smile growing wider when I didn't flinch like I used to. "You're making remarkable progress, Larka. Maybe soon, you'll be ready to head back home to District 3." Bran's eyes flashed in my head and hope fluttered in my chest. "Or, maybe the President would allow you to visit Cato and stay with him for a little bit in District 2. How would that sound Larka?"

"Good," my voice was soft. "I miss him."

"I know," Mira chuckled but there was no malice in her tone. "You bring him up often." She circled something on the smooth screen of her tablet, glancing down briefly at it before her attention returned to me. "I have an assignment for you, Larka." I brightened. "That reminds you of District 3, doesn't it?" I nodded. "Good. I want you to write out your three most positive memories. They can include anything, as long as they have some special meaning and significance to you. And the next time you have a panic attack or flashbacks, I want you to focus on one of those memories and use them to ground you. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad," she said. "So, next time you come here I want to see that you've done this assignment. You don't have to share the memories if it makes you uncomfortable, but I want to know that you've done it."

"Okay." I mumbled, my fingers fiddling with each other in my lap. "Can I go now?"

"Of course," Mira murmured, indicating for me to stand. "I'm sure there will be a Peacekeeper to escort you back to your room."

I nodded, shuffling past the President and out of the room. His presence made my skin crawl, and just him being there while I was talking to Mira had made me uncomfortable. But I think I had succeeded pretty well in ignoring him and pretending that he wasn't there. A Peacekeeper outside of the door waved me past him, and then fell into step behind me as I headed to my room. Mira, liked to call this place 'home' but for me this wasn't home. This was a place that I was temporarily staying at, trying to get better. But this wasn't home.

Home was with the people that I loved, and a place that held fond memories. Home was where my heart lay and this wasn't it. My home was District 3. My home now, was with Cato. I think. Honestly, everything with Cato was currently so confusing but I still considered him to be home or something close to it. He was _safe_ and I hadn't felt safe since before the Hunger Games. I stepped into my rooms, visibly deflating when the door slid shut behind me. The rooms here were small and filled with the barest belongings. Depending on how far along you were, you'd have a bed, desk, a tablet, and maybe a few books.

Currently I had all of those items. They still wouldn't give me any utensils to eat though, and I was fine with that. I yawned, grabbing the tablet off of the desk and disconnected the stylus from the back as I curled up on the bed. Sessions with Mira always left me exhausted, and after them I wanted nothing more than to sleep. But I couldn't do that right now, because she had given me an assignment and I had to complete it!

I tapped the stylus against the tablet, pursing my lips in thought. My three favorite memories? Something that made me happy? My lips turned down into a frown. Maybe this would be harder than I thought it was. I had a lot of memories with Bran…Maybe I could use one of those?

 ** _Memory #1_**

 ** _My first favorite memory is with my brother Bran when he first started interning with Beetee. He had just turned ten, I think and I was a lot younger – maybe, eight? Probably eight. Anyways, Bran had started interning with Beetee and needless to say he was terrified of him, even though Beetee has been nothing but a sweetheart to the both of us. He misplaced some of Beetee's blueprints and came to me in tears, crying about how Beetee was going to kill him or something ridiculous like that. That moment reminded me that even though he's my protector, sometimes he needs someone to do the same thing for him too. So, when Beetee came into our house, irate because his blueprints had been misplaced I took the fall for Bran. I protected him because he always protected me. Much to Bran's annoyance, I didn't get in trouble with Beetee but Mama had been really mad…I like that memory. We were innocent, then._**

I stared at the screen, my eyes roving over my loopy scrawl. It counted, I think. I set the tablet on the bed beside me. It was hard for me to think of any good memories. It was hard for me to remember them because anymore the things that I remembered the most were associated with the Hunger Games. I could remember my Reaping clearly as if it had just happened yesterday and I remembered my encounters with Cato during training and during the Bloodbath. I could remember Glimmer's obvious sex appeal, and Marvel's quiet cool nature, and Clove's sarcastic looks and quips and her smile (as sadistic as it might be). I remembered the parachute of food that Aven had sent us, and I remembered Clove's death. Tears filled my eyes and I hastily wiped at them, trying to ignore my heartbeat pounding in my ears and my palms shaking. I remembered the stand-off of the Cornucopia, then Cato falling back and falling. I remember teeth tearing into me and the growls of the mutts as they attacked.

And I remember Cato jumping down and fighting to protect me. I remember closing my eyes and then the next time I opened them, being in the hospital and being told that I couldn't see him. I remember being confused because I knew that I should have died. I remember asking Cato to kill me. I remember Finnick and Annie visiting and playing checkers with Annie. I remember the interviews. But none of those memories, I think can be associated with happiness because they all trace back to the Hunger Games and the mere thought of the Games causes me to panic and scream and cry and wish I was anywhere but back there.

Well, maybe playing checkers with Annie could count as a happy memory? Maybe. I know that I had liked playing checkers with Annie and talking to her – and by extent Finnick – because it had made me feel normal and it had made me forget.

 ** _Memory #2_**

 ** _I liked playing checkers and talking with Annie. Annie Cresta the Victor of the 70_** ** _th_** ** _Hunger Games. Playing checkers was fun, and talking with Annie was fun. She made me forget what had happened, and she (and Finnick) made me feel normal. They didn't talk to me like I was someone to be scared of or afraid like I would snap. They talked to me like I was a normal person. I liked that. I miss Annie. She gave me flowers once…I really liked the flowers. She gave them to me as a get-well gift and explained the meanings of the flowers. It was nice. I miss Annie._**

I needed one more memory, but at the moment I couldn't think of it so I decided that it would have to wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow would be a new day, which meant new beginnings and maybe I would be able to think of it.

Maybe just maybe, things would be starting to look up.


	14. Chapter Twelve

**T** oday, I determined as I headed to lunch with the other patients was a terrible day. I had yet to think of a third happy memory, and I had a session with Mira tonight. It wasn't that I didn't like talking to Mira, I did I suppose, but at the same time I didn't because when she talked to me she was using her clinical voice. I didn't like that voice. Not only did it put me on edge, but it made me feel wrong. Like people really thought I was crazy. I wasn't! I was just trying to cope with what had happened during the Games. Everyone had different coping methods and mine just happened to be way different than most. But that didn't mean I was crazy.

Did it?

I huffed, sitting down at the table my eyes flickering over the patients. Some of them had the stereotypical crazy Capitol looks, but many of them looked normal. There was a girl here, who was the daughter of one of the Gamemakers and unlike the Capitol citizens here she positively radiated normalcy. She had golden brown skin – a nice tan that one would commonly find in someone from Four – blonde hair often curled into ringlets, and wide brown eyes. The standard issue uniform was entirely too big on her, dwarfing her and making her small stature more than obvious. She had arrived just a few days before I had, but from what I noticed she was as social as I was. So, it baffled me, when today she got up from her seat and sat in front of me. As far as I knew, she never interacted with any of the patients. Much less the crazy ones, like I was touted as.

"I'm Amethyst Greensong," she smiled, showing a row of perfectly straight white teeth. "But you can call me Amy." She rested her elbows on the table, leaning toward me. "You're Larka Everhill aren't you?"

I hummed, shrugging noncommittally neither confirming nor denying what she said and she huffed out an irritated breath, rolling her eyes. I could see some of the other patients eyeing us with interest. They were probably wondering what a Gamemaker's daughter was doing with a broken Victor. Funny, I was wondering the same thing.

"Fine, don't talk. Like that's going to stop me," she huffed an irritated looking gleaming in her brown irises. "You were with that cute Career, weren't you? What was his name? Cato? Are you still together." She laughed, "I bet you are. He seemed infatuated with you in the Games and during the interview." She ran a hand through her hair, tousling it and making it a little unruly. "Hmm, I guess it doesn't matter since you're here with us. The rest of the crazies," she waved around the room and her eyes narrowed at me. "You are crazy, aren't you? I mean, why else would you be here?" She sighed, "I'm not crazy, but living here is better than living at home." She grinned. "Well maybe, I'm a little crazy. Nowhere as crazy as you probably are, right?"

"I'm not crazy," I muttered, jumping a little when an orderly dropped a bowl of soup in front of me. I squeezed my eyes shut. _It wasn't the boom of a cannon, Larka. It was just the bowl hitting the table,_ I told myself. I focused back on Amy, "I'm not crazy. I'm recovering."

Amy smiled, "And she speaks!" She rested her chin on the table, "Honestly, I was just babbling hoping that eventually something I said would get a response from you. You're kind of hard to approach, you know?"

"I'm not," I denied, sipping at the soup.

"You are," she insisted. "I mean you are the tormented Victor of the 74th Hunger Games, who is in a relationship with a former Career. Or would he still be considered a Career? Don't know, don't care I suppose. Anyways, yeah you are kind of hard to approach."

I shrugged.

"Woman of few words, aren't you?" She raised one of her brows, "Funny. It seemed that in the arena when you were with your Career, it seems like you couldn't talk enough."

"I didn't talk that often."

"You sure about that sweetheart?" she quipped. She shook her head, "Whatever. I'm only trying to get you to open up, you don't need to be this difficult."

"I'm not." I insisted, doing my best to ignore her, but she was making it awfully difficult. I sipped at the soup. "I have nothing to say."

"You had plenty to say in the arena," she pointed out.

I flinched. Why did she keep bringing up the arena? Oh, yeah. Because here in the Capitol and in every District except for the one I came from, the Hunger Games was the only thing that I was none for. Everywhere else except for in District 3, I was known only for my actions in the arena.

Amy's eyes softened, "Sorry. You don't want to talk about it I'm guessing?"

"No one wants to talk about killing people and nearly dying themselves," I muttered, continuing to sip at the soup. "And I was only talking so much because I was trying to get Cato to open up to me." I sighed, "I was trying to make allies. Not that you'd understand."

She smiled but it held no warmth in it. "Oh, I'd say I know more about that then you think. So, in the arena you were legitimately trying to get to know Cato? You weren't just praying that he wouldn't kill you?"

Inadvertently my lips twitched, curling into a smile. "No. I knew that he was going to kill me. He had promised me that during the first day. But, I guess I didn't care? For some reason, he didn't kill me and I was curious. I still am curious." I looked down at the table. "As stupid as it was, even though he was going to kill me, he made me feel safe." I dropped the spoon into the bowl, "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"No need to be so hostile," she chided. Then she beamed, "It's because I'm such an adorable person, and you can't help but confide in me because I have a sparkling personality."

I didn't answer, instead choosing to ignore her and sink back into my own mind. It wasn't like she cared though; she just continued to chatter but I wasn't paying any attention to her words. Eventually, Amy huffed rolling her eyes and looking away from me in frustration and irritation. I stared at her for a few moments before looking away. She was a peculiar girl. Not that I could say much on that, because I was sure that people – especially those from the Capitol – considered me peculiar – if not mad – too. After a few more moments, Amy let out another huff and got up from the table striding away and toward a different table in the corner of the room.

Maybe I had been too cold? But I wasn't here to make friends. More importantly, I wasn't here by choice. Aven had been the one to insist that I need help and I was getting it. But doing so meant I wasn't allowed to leave until they thought that I was ready. So far, they didn't think that I was ready. I knew it and they knew it too. However, I just wanted to go home. I wanted to reacquaint myself with the familiar, and talk with Mama and Bran, and go to the workshop. I wanted to get back to normalcy, but I wasn't ready. Not yet.

After eating lunch, I headed to the group craft sessions and then after that I headed back to my room to see if I could think of a third memory for Mira. I frowned, leaning against the wall and staring unseeingly at the doors. I couldn't seem to think of any good memory, and maybe that was because I had forgotten them. I had forgotten what it meant to be happy and carefree. The Capitol – more specifically the Hunger Games – had taken that from me, and I didn't know if I could get that back. I knew that Cato made me feel safe, and I did like him but I couldn't honestly tell you if being with him made me happy. I didn't know what it meant to be happy anymore.

I knew that when I was with him, I felt this lightness in my chest that I hadn't felt in a long time, and I knew that I didn't want him to leave me alone. I know that I enjoyed it when he was around, but I couldn't tell you if he made me happy. Happiness, anymore, seemed to be an abstract concept to me. I tapped the stylus against my leg, thinking over every encounter I had had with anyone.

"What does it mean to be happy?" I mused aloud, staring at the tablet. I glanced down at it, frustrated tears building in my eyes. It shouldn't be this hard for me to think of a third happy memory! But it was. "Contentment?" I tilted my head to the side. "Pleasure?" I sighed.

Restlessly I shifted on the bed, my grip on the tablet tightening. Happiness…what did it mean? Did it even have a place in this world? A frown tugged at my lips, of course it would but what was its place? Looking around the Capitol, I could see that many people were outwardly pleased with their lives and their appearances and they certainly appeared happy, but were they? I didn't know. Maybe they didn't know what it means to be happy; just like how I am struggling with it.

The door to my room open and Amy slipped in with a Peacekeeper, a bright beaming smile on her face. I frowned, a little confused on why she was here and also a little irritated at her appearance. Hadn't I made it clear that I didn't want anything to do with her?

"Cheer up sourpuss," she said jovially waving her hand at the Peacekeeper who reluctantly left the room. She sat heavily on the bed next to me, "Still not talking to me, huh?" I didn't answer. "You know, I think you and your boyfriend are more alike than you think."

"He's not my boyfriend," I grumbled, cheeks flushing.

Amy grinned as if pleased she had gotten me to answer her. "Really? Then what is he?" I shrugged. She sighed, "Okay then, that was enlightening." She yawned hugely, covering her mouth with her hand. "Any public appearances your lover makes are pretty frosty. Have you seen any of them?" I shook my head. She smiled, "Probably for the best then. He's so cold and angry. Of course, he was that way in the Games."

"Was not," I defended him immediately. Sheepishly I corrected myself, "He wasn't always. He cared for," I hesitated at the name, and then finally said, "Clove." I swallowed, "He cared…cares, for me."

"I'm not doubting that," Amy assured me. "He just seems like a bit of an angry individual."

"Maybe." I conceded. "But he isn't always that way. He's happy and relaxed, when there is a reason to be."

"Mm," Amy hummed grinning mischievously, "perhaps he's being a little irritated because you aren't by his side?" I ducked my head, refusing to look at her. "Maybe that could be it. What do you think Larka?"

I didn't answer, turning weary eyes to the tablet and preferring to pretend that she didn't exist. Of course, she didn't have that and snatched the tablet from me locking it and then putting it on top of the pillow.

"Come on Larka!" She pleaded, reaching out to touch me but paused when I flinched back. "You can talk to me. We're friends, aren't we?" I shook my head. "Why not? I like you, and you don't hate me. At least I don't think you do. So, by Capitol standards, we qualify as friends." She sighed, "You shouldn't withdraw so much, Larka. Otherwise you'll never get better." She smiled a little bitterly, "I would know."

"How?" I asked, feeling curious.

"This is my fourth time here," She told me unashamedly. "The first two times, I refused to talk, except to Mira and even then, there would be days that I wouldn't speak to her at all no matter how much she prodded. Kind of like what you're doing now," she looked at me pointedly. "Because I didn't interact with anyone, not only did I have to stay longer but it eventually resulted in me having to come back because I hadn't recovered." She raked a hand through her hair not looking at me then. "The third time, I pretended and I faked it and that's why I'm here now." She glanced at me before turning her eyes back to the wall, "This time I'm actually trying. You should too you know, unless you want to stay here for six years like I did." I looked at her in surprise and she laughed. "The first time I was here for two years, the second time three years, the third time was six months, and this time so far I've been here for a few weeks." She shrugged, "But we'll see."

"Nobody here understands," I finally muttered.

She hummed. "You may think they don't but I'm sure they do."

"No, they don't," I insisted narrowing my eyes at her. "You guys glorify the Hunger Games but you don't understand that they are why I'm like this! I can't talk about what happened because no one understands. You see it as entertainment. But I almost died!" I paused and then in a softer voice, "Cato almost died." I rubbed at my eyes urging myself to hold the tears back. "And now we're supposed to what? Celebrate and be grateful because we survived? I find that hard to do when twenty other kids like me, died."

"I'm sorry," Amy said but to me she didn't sound all that sincere. "The Games are entertainment to us, yes, and sometimes I think that we do forget that actual people are involved. But, we can't end them. It is because the Districts rebelled against the Capitol that we have the Games in the first place." She stared at me her brown eyes glittering intently, "Even though the Games for you were horrible, you can't pretend that they didn't happen. Maybe that's why you're in here, in the first place?" She rose to her feet stretching her arms above her head, "Isn't it about time for your session with Mira?"

I glanced at the clock, startled, and realized that she was right. Crap! She handed me the tablet and I bolted out of the room, shadowed by a Peacekeeper of course, and headed to Mira's office. I knocked on the door, slipping in and was met with irate green eyes. I flushed, ducking my head and uttered a small apology.

She narrowed her eyes at me, "And what were you doing?"

I hesitated. Then, "Amethyst Greensong is persistent on being my friend, so she came to my room to talk with me."

The scowl on Mira's features faded and was replaced by a beaming smile. "Oh, that's excellent, Larka! You're making friends." She clapped her hands excitedly together, and this time I didn't jump as I so often did because I knew that it wasn't the boom of a cannon. "Did you finish the assignment that I gave you?"

Ashamed I shook my head. "I got two, but I couldn't think of a third," I explained, handing her the tablet so she could read the two memories that I had written down.

Her eyes darted over the words, and she hummed before handing me the tablet. "To be honest with you, Larka, I expected that you wouldn't complete the assignment. I just wanted to see you try." She smiled, "You went through something traumatic. To cope and protect yourself, you blocked a lot of memories. Anything that you thought could end up harming you or relate directly to the Hunger Games. I figured that meant a lot of your happy memories, you couldn't remember, and so I'm happy and proud that you were able to pick at least two. I'm also pleased that you are making friends."

Timidly I whispered, "What does it mean to be happy?"

Mira's eyes widened and she softly said, "That's something that you have to figure out for yourself, Larka. I can't tell you what being happy is, because for each person it's different. You'll have to figure out what makes you happy." I only nodded. Brightly she continued, "You're doing well, Larka. Although our progress is slower than I thought it would be, you're doing well. So to commemorate your progress, we are going to be taking a little field trip."

"We?" I echoed confusedly.

"Mm-hm," she uttered. "You, me, and three other patients of your choosing will be going to District 2 and District 3." My eyes widened and she smiled. "It has been cleared with the President, the Victors, and the Districts, Larka. It's fine."

"I don't know three other patients though," I muttered, wrapping my arms around my middle. "Besides, this isn't school. Why should we take a field trip?"

"It might help you cope better." Mira told me. "At least bring one other person with us then."

"Fine," I said displeased. "Amy can come, I guess. She's the only other patient here that I know."

I scowled down at the floor, feeling irritated that she was making this seem juvenile and relieved because I was going to be home even if it was only for a short while. Maybe, I'd be able to see Bran or Mama. My fingers clenched in the soft fabric of the shirt I was wearing and I bit back tears as Mira continued planning the visit. When she finally stopped talking, I realized that she was waiting for me to say something but I never did.

"We'll be leaving tomorrow morning," Mira informed me, a clear indication that this session was over. "I'll tell Amethyst when I see her tonight. Make sure you get a lot of rest, and clothes will be provided on the train."

I nodded, slipping out of the room at her clear dismissal and headed back to my room. As soon as the doors were shut, I sunk down to the ground and cried. I couldn't tell you exactly why I was crying, just that I was. It was perhaps a culmination of all the events leading up to this point, that made me cry. Sobs wracked through my body, causing me to physically shake and I hunched over my breath coming in gasps.

It was official.

The Hunger Games had _broken_ me.


	15. Chapter Thirteen

**I** woke up with a feeling of dread swirling in my stomach. I wanted to go home, that wasn't the issue at hand. It was just that I didn't want to go home with Mira and Amy. Amy, as annoying as I thought she was, wasn't bad. I could handle her. It was Mira that I didn't want to come with; I had no doubt that she would try to somehow use District 3 as a reason for why I was struggling to cope with the aftermath of the Games, and I also didn't want her psychoanalyzing my family. In fact, I wanted her to stay as far away from Mama and Bran as she possibly could. I dressed slowly, my hands shaking. Once I was fully dressed I headed to Mira's office, where I discovered Amy was already waiting her standard smile on her face.

"So, home," Amy chirped as Mira led the two of us out of the large, five-story building. "What's it like?"

"You'll see," I answered monotonously as we were led to the train.

Mira was the first one to board, and she waited patiently for Amy and I to follow suit. I hesitated, grappling with the memories of my first train ride – the ride that took me here to the Capitol like a lamb gets taken to the slaughter. Amy gently touched my shoulder, startling me out of the memories and I jumped, my heart pounding before quickly climbing onto the train. Mira led us through the compartments, telling us where the food was, our rooms, and the living space was. Then she dismissed us. The first place I headed to was what she had designated as my room to change into more comfortable clothes.

I had barely stepped into the room before I was shedding the clothes and sifting through the closet for new ones. None of them really stood out to me, because many of them were too ostentatious for my tastes. Finally, I settled on a soft, dark blue tank top, a black jacket, and a worn pair of pants. I laced up a pair of boots and then looked at myself in the mirror, for the first time in what seemed like forever. My eyes were duller than they had been in the past, and seemed to lack the vitality and zest for life that had normally been present. My hair hung limply, nearly reaching the middle of my back and I realized that I would need to get it cut soon. My face was pale, and my eyes were bloodshot. I looked terrible, and as I stared at my reflection in the mirror I realized that this wasn't who I wanted to be.

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair, still critically eyeing my reflection. Maybe, Amy's words had some truth to them. I needed to try to get better; I needed to want to get better and move on – as best I could – from what had happened during the Hunger Games. That didn't mean forgetting what had happened. That meant, coming to terms with it and realizing that it was terrible but it couldn't be changed. I couldn't dwell on it. It was about an hour later when I emerged from my room, and by that time we were nearing District 2. My stomach clenched in anticipation.

Would Cato be there?

I doubted it. He had to be preparing for the Victory Tour. Or maybe, he was at his house in the Victor's Village of District 2. I doubted that I would see him, but that didn't stop me from hoping. The train pulled to a stop, and hesitantly I shuffled forward ignoring Amy talking exuberantly with Mira. I was just pleased that it was keeping the attention off of me. I noticed that as we walked through the main square of District 2, that most of the eyes were on me and contrary to what I had thought, they weren't filled with malice but curiosity and confusion.

They recognized me, just as I had suspected they would. Why wouldn't they? It wasn't a secret to any of the Districts, that District 2 watched the Games religiously. They even had an academy with which to train their young ones to be the ultimate killing machines in the arena. Even with all of their resources going toward bringing a Victor back to Two, they weren't always successful. You'd have the anomalies like Haymitch Abernathy from the 50th Hunger Games, Annie Cresta from the 70th Hunger Games, or even me. Of course, out of the three aforementioned, only Haymitch had come out more unscathed than Annie and I; didn't mean that he wasn't in the same boat, though. But instead of going mad like Annie had, or even like me, he chose to drink away his problems. An ineffective solution, but it wasn't something that I could condemn. We each coped in our own ways.

"Is this your first time coming to District 2?" Amy asked me, then blushed. "Of course it is, never mind. You aren't going on the Victor's Tour."

"No, I'm not," I admitted my voice softer than I thought it would. "Aven had decided that it wouldn't be a good idea. At the time, I didn't argue."

"And now?" Amy piped curiously.

I even caught Mira watching us a gleam in her eyes that made me nervous. I shrugged. "Now, I don't know," I admitted. "I don't think that I would want to go on the Victor's Tour, but I think it would help."

"Then maybe you should see about going," Amy grinned, throwing an arm over my shoulder.

I was pleased when I didn't flinch or shy away from the contact, and from the growing smile on Mira's face, so was she. As we walked around District 2, I began to feel more alive. District 2, was refreshing and a welcome change compared to what I considered to be the dreary, life in the Capitol. The bright colors and flashy outfits of the Capitol didn't appeal to me. I much preferred the dark colors, sharp lines, and rough appearances of the inhabitants and buildings of District 2. After wandering around a little, Mira decided to ask one of the residents where Victor's Village was and if he knew where Cato could be located.

"Try the academy," he had told us gruffly.

That was how we found ourselves standing in front of a large, imposing building. Swallowing harshly, I tentatively followed Mira up the steps and into the building. Amy, was much slower to follow. The inside of the building was a stark contrast to the outside, by being more modern and sleek and of course updated with state of the art technology courtesy of District 3 no doubt. The academy consisted of four floors. The first floor was for the little ones; children ages three to eight, where they began their basic Career training. The second floor was for ages nine to twelve, the third floor was for ages thirteen to sixteen, and the fourth floor was ages seventeen to eighteen. It was the fourth floor, Mira surmised, that we would be likely to find Cato.

Each floor we passed in the elevator, I could see children and their instructors posing in their actions and staring at us curiously. The elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor and I was the first to step off of it, my eyes roving around the area, seeking out a familiar muscular build and blond hair. But it was more difficult to spot him than I had anticipated, because many of the guys sparring or hanging around on this floor were just as muscular if not more so than Cato. There were only a few guys who were shorter or slimmer, but many of them had a similar build to Cato. Finally, my eyes landed on a familiar shock of blond hair.

He was sparring in the corner of the room against a guy just as big – if not bigger – than he was, but even at this distance it was easy to tell who had the upper hand. Cato disarmed the man, the practice weapon hitting the floor with a clang, and in the next second had the blade of his practice sword at the other guy's neck. I wandered closer, eyeing them curiously as Cato's deep voice thrummed through the air and the boy who he was sparring with nodded taking whatever advice he had given. Cato sighed, his body sagging and turned around and that's when he saw us. I sheepishly smiled, feeling more than nervous as his eyes flickered from me to Mira, and then back to me again. A small, barely noticeable smile appeared on his face as he padded toward us, a towel draped over his shoulders.

"Hi," I whispered once he was less than a foot away. Inwardly I scowled; I didn't like feeling like this – so nervous and unsure because of a boy. It made me feel like a school girl with a crush.

"Hi," he echoed, dark eyes surveying me. He stepped closer arms slowly coiling around me and bringing me closer to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Field trip," I muttered with a scowl, jumping a little when he snorted. "It was Mira's idea."

"So, her idea of a field trip is to visit District 2?" Cato asked wry amusement in his voice. I nodded and he shook his head, the smile that was previously on his face fading. "Of course, it is. What else can you expect of someone from the Capitol?" His eyes darted over to Amy. "Who's she?"

I hesitated. "I don't know," I shrugged and he gave me a flat look. I flushed ducking my head, "She's one of the patients too." I fiddled with the bottom of my shirt, still avoiding his eyes. "She's a Gamemaker's daughter," I revealed.

As soon as the words left my mouth Cato tensed, his hands clenching into fists. I stepped closer to him, looping one arm around his waist and holding him to me. Gamemakers were a touchy subject, something I had realized the first time he had visited me, so to have the daughter of one here was almost certainly a recipe for disaster. A growl rumbled in Cato's chest as he glared at Amy with unadulterated hatred and my grip on his waist tightened. I knew if it came down to it, I wouldn't be able to hold Cato back but I was hoping that my presence beside him was enough to keep him relatively calm.

"I want her gone," he hissed, breaking free of my grip and walking away.

I watched him go, and noticing that he paused at the elevator evidently waiting for me. I glanced over my shoulder at Mira and Amy whose eyes were wide as they stared at us and then took off after Cato. The elevator doors slid open and he pulled me in after him, still scowling in the direction of Amy and Mira even after the doors had closed. The entire ride to the ground floor was silent, and even the walk outside was filled with silence. I wasn't sure what to say to him; since the Games things had changed.

Cato grabbed my hand, leading me behind him as we headed in the direction of Victor's Village. "Why is she here?" he asked.

"Amy?" He nodded. I swallowed looking down at the cobblestone streets of Victor's Village. "Mira thought that I should bring someone with me. I don't know anyone else, so Amy was the only option." I sighed, chancing a glance at him but his face was frustratingly impassive. "She's not that bad. A little insensitive maybe, but she isn't like the others." I didn't know why I was defending her.

Cato huffed out a breath, pushing the door of his house open. "Until she stabs you in the back," he growled, the grip on my hand tightening as he led me into the kitchen. "Isn't that what people from the Capitol do best?"

I didn't answer too busy looking around the house. Given how Cato was, I expected there to be little furniture and very little sign that he lived here but I was surprised that there were several couches and chairs, a large TV, and dozens of toys scattered all over the floor. A family picture hung on the wall outside of the kitchen, and I stared at it with interest. There were eight people in the painting, a man who looked like an older version of Cato but less bulky, a woman with graying blonde hair and slate gray eyes, a girl with brilliant red hair which was a stark contrast to the complexion and coloring of the others, two boys with similar features and dark hair and eyes, Cato with a scowl on his face, a smaller girl with strawberry blonde hair and the same eyes as Cato, and an even smaller boy with Cato's blond hair and the same icy eyes.

"This is your family, isn't it?" I said, nodding my head toward the picture.

Cato glanced at it and nodded. "Parents and my siblings, Caelia, Tertius, Sarrel, Rosette, and Tiberius. Caelia is the oldest and Tiberius is the youngest."

"How old are they?" I asked curiously, perching on one of the seats located at the island.

"Caelia is twenty-eight, Tertius and Sarrel are twenty-four, I'm eighteen, Rosette is twelve, and Tiberius is ten." Cato answered. "My parents, Quintus and Cornelia, are in their fifties I think." He shrugged, "I don't really know. I never paid much attention to ages beside my own."

"Because you wanted to volunteer."

"Yeah," he answered. "Tiberius is of the same mindset."

I couldn't tell whether he was pleased or disappointed about it. "So, you aren't close with them?"

He shook his head but otherwise didn't answer and I let the subject drop. His silence had given me an answer. They weren't close, not like a family usually is, because his whole childhood was consumed by training for the Hunger Games. That was what he strived for, and he hoped to attain the title of Victor. What he didn't count on was Katniss and Peeta. Me. He didn't expect for there to be three other Victors aside from himself, and I wondered how he truly felt about that. I wondered if he regretted taking such an interest in me and helping me. I wondered if he thought that I should have died instead of Clove.

In the end, it didn't matter. Nothing could change what had happened, and truthfully if Cato was upset with what had happened he would have said it quite loudly. Cato wasn't one to hide things, he was upfront and brash about things. Some would even call him a little impulsive. But there were also times when he was levelheaded and calculating, as one would expect of a Career from Two.

He went to the fridge withdrawing orange juice, and poured me a glass. "This is all horribly domestic, isn't it?" he questioned wryly, but I could see it didn't truly upset him. It was perhaps unsettling but he didn't seem to mind it that much.

I hummed in agreement, my fingers wrapping around the cool glass. "You look like you've enjoyed being home," I whispered.

"I have," Cato confirmed, brushing some hair away from my face in a surprisingly tender move that I had not been expecting. "Are you doing okay, Larka?"

My name flowed effortlessly from his lips and I flushed. I paused searching for the right words. "I am coping. The Games had affected me more than I think, I had anticipated." I looked away from his knowing blue eyes. "They have broken me."

He smiled but there was no warmth in the look. "But, you are picking up the pieces, aren't you? You're trying to get better."

"Yeah," I said with a small smile. "It's difficult. Sometimes I think that I should have just died in the Games." Cato tensed at my words, an angry look spreading across his face. I stared down at the glass. "But, at the same time I'm glad I lived. I'm glad I didn't die."

"Me too," he whispered. Then he was turning back to the stove.

I sensed that Cato was having the same struggles that I was. The Hunger Games had torn us apart and afterwards the Capitol tried to sloppily put us back together, but we weren't the same. We were different, and no matter how much we wished we could go back to the way things had been we couldn't. Because we were so changed, it was hard trying to find where you belonged and fit in this world after the Hunger Games. I chewed on my lower lip, watching Cato as he moved around the kitchen cooking a meal.

I didn't belong in District 2. I didn't belong in the Capitol. I didn't even know if I belonged in District 3, anymore. So, where did I belong?


	16. Chapter Fourteen

**C** ato laid a plate down in front of me, "Here." He hesitated and then said, "In the arena you told me this was what you usually ate in District 3."

"It was," I answered with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."

On the plate was a typical meal that one would have in my home District. It consisted of beef roast, roasted nuts, vegetables and fruit. The aroma of the food, was soothing and familiar and I had to fight off tears. I couldn't believe he had remembered something trivial that I had said so long ago. I sent him another smile, and he just nodded his head in response eyes watching me fondly as I began to eat. Since the Games, my meals had lacked any substance and mostly consisted of porridge or soup. It seemed that Mira and the others who worked at the facility didn't trust me enough for utensils yet.

"Aren't you going to eat?" I asked, maneuvering some corn and carrots onto my spoon.

"No," Cato answered. "I'm not hungry."

I eyed him critically, "Are you sure?" He didn't answer and I sighed irritably. "Just a little?" I pleaded, holding the spoon toward him.

"No," he said firmly pushing away from the counter and walking out of the room.

I watched him go sadly, and confusion swirling in my gut. Maybe, he was suffering more than he was letting on. Maybe he was just as broken as I was. I finished the meal quickly and then began to wander around the house searching for Cato. You wouldn't think it would be so hard to find a hulking Career from Two in a house, but you'd be surprised. This house had too many damn rooms and hiding places and floors, and after several hours had passed and no sign of Cato I was beginning to grow very irritated. I huffed, heading up the stairs to the third floor. There were four rooms on the third floor, and I opened each and every door searching through them. I wasn't able to find him, until I opened the fourth door. This room was isolated from all of the rest and as I looked around the room I thought that it was probably for the better.

Cato sat in the middle of the room, his shoulders heaving as he fought for breath. The plaster of the wall was cracked, and in some places glass littered the floor. It looked like a terrible fight had taken place in the room and my heart thumped unevenly. I cleared my throat, bringing Cato's attention to me but I couldn't tell if he was truly seeing me or not. His blue eyes looked so hazy.

"It's almost supper time," I spoke up but didn't move past the threshold. "I'm sure you're hungry."

"I'm not," Cato said gruffly. Slowly he rose to his feet, "I'll make you something just give me a damn minute."

I watched him as he crossed the hall to one of the rooms, throwing the door open with such force that it hit the wall. I distinctly heard the cracking of plaster and a frustrated shout from Cato made me flinch but I still didn't move from my spot. He emerged from the room minutes later, clad in a gray shirt and dark pants. He jerked his head toward the stairs and without saying a word to me was walking away. I hurried after him, my feet hitting the wooden floors lightly and creating no noise.

"Cato, you need to eat!" I insisted as I followed him back to the first floor. "Cato?"

"I heard you," he snapped, striding into the kitchen. I trailed after him like a lost puppy. "I just…I don't want to eat." He closed his eyes, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I trained my whole life for the Hunger Games. I was prepared for them, and I was ready to win. I was fine with having to kill everyone to come home to my family, but now I can't get their faces out of my mind."

I made a sympathetic noise in the back of my throat, shifting forward and pressing my hand against his lower back. "Cato," I whispered at a loss of what to say.

"And every time I close my eyes, I see you and the mutts! I see them tearing you to shreds and I can't move or do anything, until it's too late and you're already gone," he continued, his voice hoarse. "The most aggravating thing, is that none of this should bother me! I trained for years to take lives! But, I feel guilty. I feel sick." He stepped away from me, raking a hand through his unruly blond hair and turned frenzied blue eyes to me. "At night, all I see is you at the mouth of the Cornucopia being torn apart by the wolves. That's what gets to me most of all." If I wasn't mistaken I thought I could see tears shining in his eyes, but then I blinked and it was gone. "I can't eat, without wanting to throw it up," he confessed. "Dammit," he hissed, "I'm a Career, I shouldn't be feeling this way."

"But you are," I pointed out, stepping closer to him and wrapping my arms around my middle. "It's because you have this thing, called compassion. It means you empathize with others, and when they are hurting you feel bad too. It's not a bad thing to have, Cato."

He clenched his jaw, but chose not to argue with me. Slowly, his arms wrapped around me and his chin dropped to rest on top of my head. "If you hadn't been in the Games, I would have killed Loverboy on top of the Cornucopia and I would have killed Bitch on Fire too. But at that moment, you were more important. I had to protect you."

"You did," I told him gently, hands rubbing soothing circles on his lower back.

"I didn't," he argued. "If I had, you wouldn't have been attacked by the mutts. You would have been safe on top of the Cornucopia. You wouldn't have fallen. You would have been safe."

"I'm safe now," I reminded him. "And so are you."

"For how long?" he asked sardonically. "The Games were engineered to have one Victor. We've broken the rules, sweetheart. There are four Victors of the 74th Hunger Games. It should never have happened."

"Sweetheart?" He tensed a little, but relaxed when I nuzzled closer. "Never figured you'd be one for pet names."

"It slipped out," he weakly defended himself.

I hummed, "Sure, sure."

It was nice standing here in the circle of his arms. Here I could almost pretend that everything happening around us was fake. I could pretend that I had never been in the Hunger Games and that everything was okay for just a split second. But that peace was shattered by harsh knocking on Cato's door, interrupting all peacefulness that we had felt. Silmutaneously we both tensed. Cato pulled away from me, stalking toward the door with an irritated look on his face as he opened it. I remained standing near the kitchen, watching him.

"Hi!" I heard a familiar voice say all too brightly. "Larka's here right?"

 _Amy_.

"She is," Cato confirmed. "Not that I think it's any of your business. You're only using her aren't you? To get more information on arenas for your father. He's a Gamemaker isn't he?"

"I am not!" Amy bristled. "Larka your boyfriend is an ass!"

I hid a chuckle, stepping toward them. I peered under Cato's bulky frame, and smiled at Amy. "What are you doing here?"

"Mira said that we're leaving after supper, I just thought I'd let you know since I haven't seen you all day," she told me. She narrowed her eyes at Cato, "Is he always this much of a jerk? I mean, I watched the Games but I seriously didn't think he was that bad."

"Shut your mouth," Cato growled, surging forward.

"Cato!" I shouted, wrapping my arms around his arm, preventing him from moving any closer to the now terrified Capitol girl. I sent Amy an apologetic look, "I think you should go Amy."

"Right," she agreed breathlessly.

And then she was bounding down the street and out of sight. I released my grip on Cato, gently closing the door. Then I turned to face him, my eyes roving over his posture. I took note of his clenched fists and the defensive set of his shoulders and briefly allowed a smile to flit across my face. Even now when we were no longer in the arena, he was still trying to protect me.

"Come on, I'm hungry," I said tugging on his hand.

Bit by bit he relaxed, as I pulled him behind me and toward the kitchen chattering about whatever nonsensical thing popped into my head. By the time we reached the kitchen he was much more relaxed and a small, barely noticeable smile was tugging at his lips. It was then that I stopped talking, content to just sit there and watch him. This was a bit of normalcy that I had never experienced before and I'd admit that I liked it, even though it was as Cato had cheerfully pointed out "horribly domestic". Cato made the meal slowly. I had a feeling that he was doing it on purpose but I didn't mention it, because I didn't want to leave.

Dinner was fancier than I thought it would be, with beef roast, roasted nuts, vegetables, fruits, rolls, stew and a small slice of chocolate cake. This was a meal that I would have expected from the Capitol not from District 2, but it was nice and I appreciated it all the same. My mind flashed back to one of the conversations that I had with Cato when we were in the arena, and I realized that while this seemed a little fancy to me it really wasn't. This was normal in District 2. I sipped at the water my eyes watching Cato as he struggled with eating the rather large meal. He blanched, setting the spoon down with a clang on the plate and pushed away from the meal his expression twisting itself into an ugly grimace.

"We're heading to District 3 tonight I think," I mentioned, eyes darting toward Cato before looking back down at my empty plate.

"Home," Cato mumbled. "Are you excited to be going back?"

I shrugged, "I'm not sure. I haven't been home since Reaping Day. I don't know how I feel going back home as a Victor. A messed-up, broken Victor." There was a note of bitterness in my words. "I don't know."

"No one comes out of the Games unscathed. I hardly think that you're as broken as you think," Cato told me his voice firm. He moved around the counter, coming to stand at my side. "I'm sure that your family will be pleased to see you."

"I hope."

"They will." A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "My family, isn't very affectionate but even they were pleased to see me. Hell, I'd say they were positively ecstatic." He wrapped his arms around me, "Your family will surely feel the same, Larka."

"Maybe," I conceded. "But maybe they won't. I did let Micro die, and I killed the boy from Ten."

"Out of self-defense," he reminded me, his body tensing. "You weren't responsible for whether Micro lived or died. His death lies with me, not you. I was the one who killed him."

I managed a wan smile. "Is there something else that we can talk about? Talk of the Hunger Games makes me feel ill."

He didn't verbally answer, but I could see that he agreed with me. It was strange that he was struggling with the Hunger Games as much as I was, but at the same time it endeared me to him. It meant that he wasn't as cold and callous as he appeared, or as the Capitol tried to portray him as. It meant that no matter how much you tried to desensitize the tributes, they would always be affected by the Hunger Games. They wouldn't become stone-cold killers, or mindless drones following what the Capitol said.

"What's your favorite color?" Cato asked, leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed on me.

I flushed, "Blue." A smirk appeared on his face and I pointed looked away from. "Yours?"

"Gray. It's a calm, neutral color," Cato answered. "What's your favorite thing to do in Three?"

I tilted my head to the side, thinking about it. "I liked going to Beetee's workshop with Bran, and making things. We spent a lot of time designing new inventions for the Capitol, like TVs, tablets, and better weapons for the Games or the Peacekeepers." I turned my gaze back to him, "What about you? What did you like to do here?"

"Train," Cato told me. "That's all I did, remember?" He sighed, "But now, I still like training but I prefer masonry – making things out of stone."

"So, being a carver?" I asked. "Kind of?" He nodded. I smiled, "Sounds nice. Did you ever think you'd want to do that?"

"No." Cato answered. "I told you. My whole life had been spent training for the arena. I never gave any consideration to anything beyond the arena, until now." He shrugged, "I do, however still like training but my life no longer revolves around it."

I jumped, upon hearing knocking at the door and sighed, turning to Cato. "I think I need to go," I said. "That's probably Mira or Amy."

He frowned, trailing after me as I headed to the door. I opened the door, peering outside and was unsurprised to see both Mira and Amy. What did surprise me was the woman with white-blonde hair and brown eyes. Something about her eyes seemed familiar to me, but at the moment I couldn't place it.

Cato coiled an arm around my waist drawing me back against his chest. "What are you doing here, Raven?"

The woman – Raven – smiled, "They were looking for Three." She eyed me critically, "Found her. Although, she's not much to look at, is she?"

"Raven!" Cato snapped.

"Oh relax, you big baby, I didn't mean anything harmful by it," Raven rolled her eyes. She leaned closer to me, and then stuck out a hand for me to shake. "Raven Sevina, Victor of the 68th Hunger Games and Clove's older sister." I inhaled sharply; that's who her eyes reminded me of. She smiled, although it lacked any real warmth. "Glad you at least remember her."

"How old are you?" Amy piped up from Raven's side.

"I was sixteen when I won. It's been, six years since. Do the math."

"Twenty-two?" Amy questioned.

Raven nodded, her eyes staring fixatedly at me. "Clove should have been able to come home, not you. But of course, maybe this is what she would have wanted. Who knows, really? She was a tricky little bitch, but she was my sister and if anyone was supposed to kill her it should have been Cato and not that boy from Eleven." Her eyes moved to the boy at my back, "You had known her the longest Cato. You should have given her that decency."

"You cannot change what happened Raven, no matter how much you want to. And being a bitch isn't doing you any favors," Cato said viciously. "There are other ways to respect and honor your sister. Wouldn't Septimus agree?"

"Don't talk about our brother," Raven hissed, narrowing her eyes. She sniffed, "Whatever. I'm not angry at you, I'm just disappointed in you. You should have known better." Her eyes darted to me, "The both of you should have known better."

"Go away," Cato growled. "You aren't wanted here, Raven."

She grinned, "Too bad. I'm a Victor. I can go wherever the hell I please."

But despite the words she had just spoken, she turned and walked away but not without casting one more venomous look at us over her shoulder. Her rage was surprising but no unwarranted; she had lost her sister to the Hunger Games, and the blame for her death could be pinned on Cato and I even though we weren't the ones who had physically killed her. At that point Cato's focus had been leaning more toward me, and if I had never joined their alliance maybe things could have changed.

"We need to get going, Larka," Mira told me her voice gentle.

Cato stiffened behind me, and the arm wrapped around me tightened. I swallowed, looking down at the ground but carefully extracted myself from Cato's grasp, doing my best to ignore the soft whines escaping from his throat. I didn't want to leave, but I didn't have a choice. I was still Mira's patient, and District 2 wasn't my home. I stepped over the threshold and quickly turned giving Cato a brief, albeit pathetic looking smile, and then turned back to Mira and Amy.

"Ready?" Mira asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet cheerily.

I scowled at her but nodded in agreement. The further we walked from Cato's house, the more nervous I began to get. My hands were shaking and I hastily stuffed them into the pockets of the jacket I was wearing. I should be excited to be going home to District 3, but I couldn't bring myself to feel happy. It was only a temporary visit, and more than anything I was terrified of seeing Mama and Bran again. I was scared of what they would think of me.

I could only hope that they wouldn't hate me. Just like the Games had, that would break me. Of course, I was already broken, wasn't I?


	17. Chapter Fifteen

**M** onths had passed since my visit home. It hadn't gone as terribly as I had thought it would, in fact it had gone wonderfully. Mama and Bran had been ecstatic to see me, and being there with them in our dilapidated house talking about nothing and everything I felt normal. Like the Hunger Games had never happened. It was too bad that the visit had been short, but I had enjoyed it and it had made me want to leave the Capitol so I could be with them again. I was getting better. At least, I thought I was. I still had nightmares and flashbacks, and sometimes I still forgot where I was but compared to when I first woke up, I was doing better. It wasn't enough for Mira to be comfortable letting me go home though.

It was probably for the better. The Victory Tour had stirred up quite a bit of controversy, and I wasn't too keen on facing the aftermath. Things were tense with the Districts, and among the Capitol I had heard talks of the possibility of uprisings in the Districts. It was best I not associate with the atrocity that was the Victory Tour. I was getting better, but that didn't mean I wanted to relive the Hunger Games and remember all of those who had died. I couldn't escape it, I knew that, but I didn't want to remember them the way the Capitol did. I wanted to remember them as they were, not how the Capitol wanted them to be. So, I hadn't gone. It didn't mean that I didn't know what happened; Amy had made a point to keep me informed even though Mira was against the idea.

I sat curled on the comfy high-end couch beside Amy, my eyes watching the TV closely. The Capitol was due to announce the Third Quarter Quell soon. I had the Quells; I had never been alive for any of them but I had heard enough of them to cause me to loathe them with a fiery passion. The Quarter Quells always seemed to introduce a new twist into the Games. The Second Quarter Quell – the fiftieth Hunger Games – had added double the number of participants. President Snow had claimed, two rebels died for every Capitol citizen, hence the reason for twice as many tributes being sent into the arena. Haymitch Abernathy, from District Twelve had one those Games. The First Quarter Quell had a twist too, but I didn't remember what it was.

President Snow stepped onto a stage, a twisted smile on his serpentine face that made me nervous. I paid little attention to the whole thing, nervousness twisting in my gut and making me feel as if I was going to be sick. My heart fell when he spoke.

"On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors," President Snow said.

I heard cries from the physicians watching with us, and all eyes in the room turned to me – the only Victor in the room. I didn't notice. I was too distracted by the blood roaring in my ears and feeling like the world was closing in around me. Existing pool of Victors? That meant, that I could be sent back into the arena. I paled.

That meant that _Cato_ could be sent back into the arena.

It'd be just like the 74th Hunger Games except worse. And I wouldn't be there. Would I? I didn't know. I curled my knees toward my chest. I couldn't let Cato be alone without allies. Logically, I knew that if given the chance he would ally with the other Career Districts of One and Four, but the alliance would be tentative and frosty at best and they'd barely make it five minutes without stabbing each other in the backs.

The broadcast continued, but I paid it little heed. My mind was still swirling and I was trying to process what had just happened. We thought that once we had become Victors, we would be safe. But now, more than ever, it was clear that we weren't. None of us were safe from the Capitol.

"Larka, are you okay?" Amy asked, reaching out to touch my knee.

I jumped, my eyes flying to hers. "Yeah," I nodded, all too aware of the looks fixed on me. "But, Cato."

"You worry about him," she deduced – although it wasn't really that hard to figure out. "Two, has a lot of Victors. The odds of him being picked again aren't that high."

"That's what I said about myself on Reaping Day, and then I was picked for the Hunger Games," I told her my voice icy. "Odds and percentages don't mean anything here." My lips twisted into a grimace, "If I know Cato at all, he will volunteer just because he'll want to get back at Katniss and Peeta. The Games have scarred him, like they've scarred the rest of the Victors but even with that, he'll go back into the Games just to try and get revenge. Partly for himself, and partly for me. If it hadn't been for Katniss, he wouldn't have been subject to seeing the mutts tear into me and nearly killing me."

"But you didn't die," Amy pointed out. "Shouldn't he be grateful for that?"

"He is," I told her. "But that doesn't take away from the fact, that Katniss was the cause of many of the troubles in the arena. She blew up the supplies, killed Glimmer and Marvel, nearly killed me, and her actions inadvertently led to the deaths of Rue, the girl from Five, and Clove. That's not something that he can just forgive." I smiled wryly, glancing at Amy. "You wouldn't know it, but Cato's actually a very emotional person. He feels too much, but he doesn't let it show."

"Typical Alpha male personality," Amy grumbled. "I don't know why you like him."

"Because he's Cato," I replied immediately. My gaze softened, "I owe him a lot. For starters, he didn't kill me even when he should have. He allowed me to try to live out my days in the arena the best I could. But even when it came down to it, he couldn't kill me. Besides, he's not that bad. A little rough around the edges, maybe. But I can't fault him for killing in the Hunger Games, because I did the same thing. I killed Ten."

"But you did it in self-defense!"

"Wouldn't you do anything you could, to get home to your family?" At that she fell silent. "I knew as soon as I saw him, and then Katniss, I wouldn't get home alive no matter how clever I was. I'm not stupid nor am I naïve. I knew that my chances were slim. Cato's chances, though, they were good. He knew he had a shot so he was going to do whatever he could to get home." I chuckled a little bitterly, "Until Katniss and I messed up his plans."

"Katniss because she was unpredictable. And you, because he started to fall for you," Amy whispered, watching me carefully.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you regret it?" Amy asked, peering at me out of the corner of her eyes. "Starting to fall in love with him?"

"No," I shook my head. "Honestly, after the Games ended…that was when I really started falling for him. What we had in the arena was real, but after it became more substantial. It had the chance to fully develop because we weren't fearing for our lives."

"Are you in love with him?"

"I don't know what romantic love feels like. I know what familial love feels like, and that's not what I feel for him. But I don't know if it's romantic."

Amy nudged me, laughing a little. "If it's not familial, it's definitely romantic." She giggled some more, "Aw, Larka's in love!"

"Shut up."

I was glad that she hadn't brought up the impending Games; I was worried enough about those. What hope did we have? We were the newest Victors, and I didn't doubt that the other Victors were keeping their skills honed – especially the ones from Districts 1 and 2. Even District 4. I scratched at my wrist, eyes falling on the tiled floor as Peacekeepers began filtering into the room to lead us to our rooms. My mind was preoccupied by running through the Victors I knew of, as I was hauled to my feet.

Cashmere and Gloss from District 1, Victors of the 63rd and 64th Hunger Games respectively. Siblings. That made them dangerous since they'd do anything for each other regardless of the fact that one of them had to die for the other one to come out on top.

Then there were Brutus, Enobaria, Raven, and Cato from District 2. I was sure there was another one, but I couldn't remember who it was. Brutus, I didn't know much about. But I remembered Enobaria's, because of the brutality; she had ripped out another tribute's throat with her teeth. I was too little to fully remember her Games, but I remembered hearing about them and once, I had watched a segment of her Games just to see what had everyone else so freaked out. If she was in the arena, she'd prove a problem especially for Cato. Then there was Raven, Clove's elder sister and Victor of the 68th Hunger Games. To me, her Games had been pretty unremarkable except I did recall, vaguely how ruthless she was. There had been one instance, where she slipped away from the Career pack and went hunting by herself in the dead of night; come morning, five tributes were dead. Nobody in the arena knew how it happened, but everyone outside of it did.

Beetee and Wiress, from my District wouldn't pose a problem for Cato. Even though it pained me to admit it, he could easily take them out. Wiress wasn't fully there, like how sometimes Annie and I weren't, and Beetee would do whatever he could to protect Wiress. If Wiress was Reaped for the Games.

From District 4, the biggest threat would be Finnick Odair. I loved Finnick, but there was no doubt that he was lethal and there was no way that he'd let anyone kill Mags or Annie, depending on who was Reaped. I couldn't think of anyone notable from the rest of the Districts, save District's 7, Johanna Mason. She had made everyone in the arena think she was weak and so they counted her off, when really, she was the deadliest participant in her Games.

If Cato was Reaped, he'd have a hard time coming out on top. I had confidence in him, but even I could not deny that it would be hard and the chances of him emerging as a Victor for the second time were slim at best. I jumped a little as the door to my room slipped open and I was ushered in by the Peacekeeper. I wanted to believe that Cato would be fine and that he would win, but these weren't untrained tributes. They had done the same things we had. Like us, they were killers and they would have no qualms about taking any more lives. That made them infinitely more dangerous than the tributes we had faced.

"Maybe, I should volunteer," I said out loud. "Keep an eye on Cato and make sure that Katniss doesn't try anything. I'm not a skilled fighter, and I'm not really skilled at anything but having one ally who won't betray you surely has to be worth something."

Or, I would end up just being a hindrance.

I bit my lip, sitting heavily on the bed. There was no clear-cut right answer to the predicament that I now found myself in. Perhaps, I could only do what I thought was best regardless if it was what was truly right or wrong. The only problem was, I didn't know what I thought was best. Maybe, I could convince Mira to let me go back to District 3 temporarily so I could ask Bran or even Beetee for advice. God knows that I needed it, right now. I curled up on the bed, my mind still running over what had happened. My thoughts on the Capitol had been confirmed. They couldn't be trusted.


	18. Chapter Sixteen

**A** week later, I found myself walking toward District 3's Victor's Village. Mira had discharged me, something that I was grateful for, but had also urged me to be careful and encouraged me to come back if I felt anything was the slightest bit off. I wanted to laugh in her face, because there was nothing right about the situation that I found myself in. But I had only smiled at her and given her my thanks, before boarding the train that would take me home. It was strange, being back in District 3 after so many months away and I had to admit that I felt a little uneasy.

The first thing I had noticed upon getting off of the train, was the somber atmosphere. No little kids were chasing each other through the street, and quite alarmingly the streets were practically bare. Even the marketplace had barely any activity. The second – and final – thing I noticed, was the increase of Peacekeepers and as I walked toward Victor's Village I swore I could feel their eyes following me as I left. I opened the door, walking in the direction of what I presumed to be the kitchen since that was where I could hear voices coming from.

This change in District 3, wasn't welcome and I wondered what brought it on. The only thing I could think of were small-scale uprisings. Maybe like the Capitol feared, the Districts were rebelling. Almost immediately, I wanted to dismiss the silly thought but I found I couldn't because I was having similar thoughts. They were unknown to anyone else and I hid them pretty well, but I was beginning to resent the Capitol. If there were enough people, a rebellion was possible. I padded into the kitchen, a smile curling my lips when my eyes landed on Mama and Bran, and unexpectedly Wiress and Beetee. The latter of whom looked surprised but elated to see me, while the former were looking more shocked than anything else.

"You're back," Bran breathed, stepping toward me. Then I found myself in his arms, his nose buried in my hair. "You're back."

"Larka," Mama mumbled. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Birdie," Wiress chirped, smiling gently at me from where she sat at Beetee's side.

Beetee eyed me carefully, eyes dark with concern – and maybe even a little bit of wariness – before he allowed a small smile to appear on his features. "Welcome back, Larka. I trust that the Capitol treated you well."

I scowled at him, "There's no need to be so formal with me, Beetee. We've known each other for a long time." Then I sighed and shrugged, "The Capitol treated me fine, aside from the announcement of the Third Quarter Quell."

"I understand." And I knew he did. Of course, he did because he was Beetee.

Bran smiled crookedly, "So I'd guess that you have no love lost for the Capitol?"

"Bran!" Mama hissed, reprimanding him.

I smiled, but couldn't help the way my eyes darted around the room. It wouldn't surprise me, if the Capitol was somehow listening in. They surely had the technology to do so and it was pretty clear that they held no respect for the Districts. I just shrugged, not giving him a verbal answer. Beetee's eyes held a knowing look as he stared at me, and admittedly it made me a little nervous.

"It's safe to talk here, Larka. There are no prying eyes or ears," Beetee told me, his eyes softening. "We trust the Capitol about as much as you do."

"So, is it true then?" I blurted. "There are uprisings?"

"Yes," Beetee murmured, folding his hands-on top of the counter. "Small-scale ones, of course. The Districts are not yet organized for anything more than that."

"But soon," I concluded and Beetee nodded. "Why? What brought this on?"

"What do you think?" Bran quipped, shooting me a pointed look. "The 74th Hunger Games, what else?" At my stunned look he laughed, reaching over and ruffling my hair. "Katniss lit the spark for the rebellion. She's an icon for them, a symbol. But for the Districts, you and Cato are what is keeping it burning. I couldn't honestly tell you why, but you and Cato are just as important to the rebellion is Katbitch is, especially in the Districts where she is not looked upon fondly."

"One, Two," I said, then frowned. "Who else?"

"A majority of Three, and Four," Beetee replied. "All of the Career Districts. I assume the reasons for that are obvious."

Of course, it was. It was because of Cato; Katniss had no respect for giving him – or me – an honorable death. In fact, she had been content to let us suffer, so it made sense that the Career Districts, loathed her for trying to deny us of that and for coldly killing their own tributes. She had proven that the Career Districts meant nothing to her and that the only Districts that did matter were those like District 12.

"Besides, everyone knows that you and Cato are together. You two are so sickeningly cute it's disgusting," Bran rolled his eyes. "But, I suppose that it's also serving to give hope to the Districts."

I nodded. "So, you must be planning something. What is it?"

"No," Mama said firmly, her voice breaking into the conversation and sounding so icy that it momentarily stunned me. "We are not involving you in this. Bran shouldn't even be involved in this!" Her voice rose, and her eyes narrowed as she glared at Beetee. She turned tormented eyes to me, "You are not to be involved in this, Larka. You have already suffered enough at the hands of the Capitol."

"She'll end up being involved anyways, Mom," Bran argued giving her a pointed look. "The odds of her being Reaped again are pretty high. We'll need someone on the rebellion's side to go into the Games, and if Larka is picked as a tribute, it'd be better for her if she didn't go in blind."

"I will not allow it. That is the end of the discussion," Mama snapped, slamming her palms onto the countertop.

I understood her hesitation to involve me. She had seen how the Hunger Games had affected me, and she didn't want me to get hurt any more than I already had been. She was trying to protect me. But that didn't mean her words and her actions weren't irritating me. I wasn't helpless, and whether she wanted to admit it or not any large-scale rebellion would undoubtedly involve me in some fashion. No matter how much she tried to keep me out of it, somehow, I would be involved by either the rebellion or the Capitol. But for now, I knew that she wouldn't budge.

That didn't stop Bran from trying though. "Cato's involved!" He yelled. "Why can't she be involved too?" Mama didn't answer him, and Bran took that as a sign to continue. "The two of them are a package deal, Mama. If Cato's involved, she'll be involved too."

"Cato knows?" I questioned.

Bran sent me a panicked look. Then sighed, his posture sagging, "Yes. We made him promise not to tell you simply because, you were still in the care of the Capitol. He wanted to tell you but the situation is a sensitive one."

"I'm not angry Bran. More surprised than anything else," I told him, smiling at him to show him that I wasn't mad. "It never occurred to me that Cato might be involved, given that he hates Katniss."

"Well he's not doing it for Katniss," Bran insisted. "He's doing it to protect you." I ducked my head bashfully, a blush appearing on my face. "Little lark, are you sure you really want to be involved?"

"Yes." I looked around the room. "It'd be worse if I ended up in the arena, blind and with no idea of what was going on." I smiled, leaning toward him pointedly ignoring Mama's outraged look and Beetee's encouraging smile. "So Branny, tell me everything."

"As long as you promise never to call me by that name again."

"Deal."

I quickly learned that the rebellion didn't have any sort of concrete plan. They had the beginnings of a plan or other little ideas but nothing concrete. It was a little frustrating and annoying, but I understood that it was a work in progress and it wasn't like they had a lot of allies. At least, I hadn't thought so until Bran confided in me about District 13. My first thought was that he had to be lying because the Capitol had destroyed District 13 after the First Rebellion. But, somehow the District was thriving underground. Bran had been able to get me into contact with some of their engineers who confirmed the story, and that was when I knew I had gotten myself involved in a mess that I wouldn't be able to get myself out of.

Before, when I had first learned of the uprisings it had seemed fantastical and like something that couldn't actually happen. In many ways, it seemed like a dream to me. But now, it was almost all too real and that meant the danger was all too real as well. Bran emphatically told me however, that under no circumstances should I divulge any of this to anyone even Cato. He said that even though Cato was part of the rebellion – something I was still struggling to believe – you never knew who might be listening in. Of course, I agreed with him and the subject turned to something more lighthearted much to the delight of Mama.

"Are you going to see him?" Bran asked curiously, after Beetee and Wiress had left the house with Beetee taking a small device with him. Surreptitiously Bran pressed his index finger to his lips, indicating that all talks of the rebellion should be put on hold until we saw Beetee again.

"Who? Cato?" I questioned.

Bran nodded, "Yeah. The last time I saw you, you seemed pretty dependent on him. Like you didn't want to be separated from him."

There was a note of bitterness in his voice. "Because I don't associate him with the bad memories of the Games," I told him. "When I think of Katniss, I can only remember Marvel dying, Micro dying, the explosion at the Cornucopia, or falling and being torn into by the mutts." I noticed Mama flinch. I took a deep breath, "When I think about Cato, I don't remember any of that. I remember him comforting me after I killed Ten, and I remember him rushing to protect Clove and how upset he was because he was too late."

"You don't associate him with your near-death experiences," Bran said and I nodded. He chuckled a little, "Still, I miss my independent little sister."

"I still am independent!" I protested. Bran gave me a flat look and I winced, smiling sheepishly. "Perhaps I'm not as independent as I used to be, but I am getting better Bran. You've seen it!"

"I've seen pieces of who you used to be," Bran corrected. "I'm still trying to piece together the puzzle of who you are now."

"What an elegant metaphor," I quipped.

He grinned, "It's accurate, is it not?"

I nodded, having to concede that he was right. The arena caused us to lose who we are, and then the Capitol tried to piece us back together. Meanwhile, we were all just trying to figure out who we were and where we belonged in this world. I was still trying to figure that out and discover who I was, but now it seemed like that would have to be put on hold. The Second Rebellion was more important. Figuring out who I was would have to come later.


	19. Chapter Seventeen

**I** t was hard getting acclimated back into District 3. My days were spent working with Beetee on things for the Capitol, talking with engineers from District 13, placating Mama because she was worried about me, speaking with Cato on the phone every few days, and worrying about the 75th Hunger Games. Weeks had passed, and it was only a short while before Reaping Day. Needless to say, I was struggling. My nightmares had been getting worse and so had the flashbacks but I refused to tell anyone. I couldn't confide in them, because I didn't need them to worry about me when the Second Rebellion was much more important.

My best days were when Finnick and Annie visited me, and I got a rest from all of the crazy things happening around me. It was nice to not have to worry about the Games, the rebellion, District 13, or Mama when they were around. I only wished they could come by more often. Unfortunately, they belonged in District 4 and with the rising tensions between the Districts and the Capitol it was getting much harder for them to come and visit me.

The increased presence of Peacekeepers in District 3, of course also wasn't helping matters. I padded into the house, tugging the woolen hat off of my head and padded into the kitchen. Thankfully, the cold weather was beginning to fade and the spring was coming closer. But that also meant so were the Games. I shook my head, banishing those thoughts. I'd have to worry about them later. The phone rang and I bounded over to it.

"Hello?"

"I was hoping it'd be you and not your brother that answered."

"Cato!" I laughed, shaking my head.

"What? He doesn't like me." He sounded affronted.

"That's because he only knows you as a Career from Two that had explicitly told his sister that you would kill her. That doesn't leave room for a better impression," I told him, leaning against the wall. "Besides, I'm his little sister so understandably, Bran's protective of me especially when it concerns boys."

"I'm not a boy," Cato growled out petulantly. He huffed, "Haven't I proven to him already that I wouldn't intentionally hurt you?"

"Perhaps, but Bran's stubborn," I offered with a shrug. "He just worries over me and the relationship that we have. But eventually he'll back off, and maybe he'll even start to like you a little bit."

"Really doubting that right now, Larka," Cato mumbled his voice gruff. His voice softened, "How are you doing?"

I bit my lip. Should I be honest or should I lie? Lying would get me nowhere with Cato, because he could always tell when I was doing it and if anything, it would only upset him. Although, being honest would only invite more questions and concerns. It was the lesser of the two evils though.

"Larka?" Cato prompted.

"I'm struggling, but I'm fine," I finally replied. He made a dissenting noise, clearly disagreeing with me. "Cato," I sighed irritation heavy in my voice.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I just worry about you. This ordeal has not been easy on you and I am concerned."

"It hasn't been easy on you either," I pointed out. I heard him sigh over the phone and I smiled. "I'm fine. You don't need to worry so much. The nightmares are getting worse, but I am coping with them, and there's not really much that can be done about it." I glanced toward the front door as it opened and Bran stomped in, an irritated look on his face. "Worry about yourself first, and then me second."

"Easier said than done," he grumbled sounding displeased and maybe even a little irritated. "Are you entirely sure that you are fine?"

"I didn't take you for a mother hen, Cato."

"Shut up."

I laughed, "Not a chance." I sobered, twirling the cord around my finger. "Relax, Cato. Everything is fine. There's no need to worry about me, I'm fine," I soothed.

"If you're sure," he replied doubtfully. "Is your brother home yet?"

My eyes flickered toward the door, where Bran was still standing his eyes narrowed at me. "Yes, and he's glaring at me. I presume he knows that I'm talking with you."

"His hate for me is unwarranted, I hope you know that."

"I do." I shrugged, "But there isn't anything either of us can do about it."

"Mm-hm," he hummed still sounding irritated. Over the phone call I heard a crash and then a lot of shrieking and Cato sighed heavily. "I have to go. My stupid sister brought over her damn kids and then left me to babysit them. Bye."

"Bye."

The phone clicked as the line went dead, and I hung up turning to Bran a bashful smile on my face. Cato was right about one thing; the dislike that my brother had for him was certainly unwarranted but there was nothing that either of us could do about it. Bran shuffled into the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest in a bid to look intimidating. But it did nothing other than annoy me and I raised my brows, completely unimpressed.

"I hate him," Bran grumbled, sitting at the island. He looked at me, his lips curling up into a smile, "Sometimes." He reached an arm out, drawing me to his side. "At least he makes you less introspective. He makes you act more like yourself. It's the only reason I merely detest his presence."

"You don't really mean that," I told him. Bran grumbled but didn't give me a coherent reply, therefore proving that my words were true. I smiled, "See? Admit it, you feel the slightest bit of affection toward Cato."

"I do not!" He protested, cheeks coloring. "I hate your boyfriend."

I frowned, "Don't call him that." He looked at me curiously so I elaborated, "It sounds too juvenile."

Bran nodded, "I suppose it does, considering the circumstances. So, what would you call him, then?"

"We are not having this conversation," I said swiftly getting out of his hold. "There are bigger things to worry about Bran, like Reaping Day which is rapidly approaching."

Bran shook his head, "I am not going to worry about something that I cannot change. You should do the same Larka."

His words made me fall silent, and I had to admit that he had a point. Worrying about Reaping Day and the 75th Hunger Games wasn't good for my health, and it was causing me to become more stressed than I already was. I couldn't change the Third Quarter Quell, no matter how much I wanted to, and if I did get Reaped I couldn't change that either – unless someone volunteered for me – so, I shouldn't worry about it. These circumstances were all something that I could not change.

"I agree, but it doesn't make me any less nervous Bran, and it's a hard idea to put into practice and follow, wouldn't you agree?" I conceded, a smile appearing on my face. "As people, we can't help but worry about the unknown and about the things that we cannot change. It's in our nature."

"True, but we shouldn't let it consume us." Bran shrugged, "Reaping Day will come, like it does every year and nothing we can do will change it. You're just worried because you're scared that you'll get picked again."

I bit my lip, shying away from him because his words had struck a chord. Of course, I hadn't tried to hide it. The reason that I feared this Reaping Day more than any others was because I was scared I would get picked again. I wasn't ready to face another Hunger Games, but even if I wasn't picked I knew that I would end up volunteering just to save Wiress or some of the older Victors from it. I couldn't quite call myself a coward, but in this moment, I felt like one. I wanted to do nothing more than flee and let someone else get Reaped in my place, but I couldn't do that. Not only would the Capitol catch me before I even left our borders, but my own sense of honor wouldn't allow me to condemn someone else to a fate worse than death if I could do anything to prevent it.

"You don't know what it's like Bran," I whispered. "It breaks you apart and then reshapes you, until you don't even recognize who you are anymore." I wrapped my arms around my middle as if I was trying to hold myself together, "I don't know who I am anymore. I've changed. And maybe I haven't changed for the better."

"Don't say that," he scolded me his tone light. "Larka," he sighed seeming to be at a loss for words.

I sent him an apologetic look, "You want to argue but you know that I'm right. I'm a shell of who I was."

"No, you aren't," he insisted. "You're right, you have changed but you can't decide whether it is for the better or for the worst, because let's face it Larka you're bound to be a little biased. Joking aside, you have changed because of the Games but deep-down you are still Larka. The Games can't change who you are fundamentally. They don't change everything about you, they only change some things about you." He shook his head, "Ignoring that, you are still you. Just a different version of you, so you aren't a former shell of yourself. You're still Larka. My baby sister."

"Thank you," I whispered.

He didn't understand how much those words meant to me. Ever since the Games ended I had been trying to figure out who I was and where I belonged, and trying to go back to how I used to be. But, now I realized that I didn't have to become that Larka. Bran was right when he said the Games couldn't change everything about me, and that somewhere I was still myself. I was different but I was the same. I was a different version of Larka, yet I was still the shy Larka from District 3 before she had been Reaped for the 74th Hunger Games. I was still his little sister, yet at the same time I was also a Victor.

But most importantly I was still me. It had only taken me months to realize it.


	20. Chapter Eighteen

**R** eaping Day came about the same way it had last year. Entirely too quickly and with elaborate fanfare from the Capitol. But there was no joy in District 3. All around the town square were somber faces staring forlornly at Aven, Beetee, Wiress, and I. The other two Victors we had were old and frail, and one of them had recently fallen sick so they weren't able to make it, for obvious reasons. Like last year, our escort was the same as last year and just like last year she was dressed even more audaciously and ostentatiously than perhaps should be allowed. Her dress was a garish, vibrant green color. It was so bright that I had to look away because the color stung my eyes, and her hair was dyed a just as vibrant pink which clashed horribly with the green. Her pale, milky skin did nothing to help her overall attire and if anything made the brighter colors worse.

In the weeks that had preceded today, it couldn't be denied that we had all been in foul moods, Bran perhaps more so than the rest of us. Plans for the rebellion were moving along smoothly, perhaps too smoothly, and I couldn't help but wonder if things were going to go terribly wrong. Although, Beetee was the chief architect for the schemes alongside District 13 and I was more than confident that he was accounting for every variable possible.

It had been decided that Beetee and I would go into the arena. Beetee had been sure to point out that Katniss needed as many allies in the arena as possible, and Wiress as wonderful as she was wouldn't be as much help. I had agreed, and added that the safest place for Wiress right now was in District 3 with Bran. At least here, she'd be better protected than in the arena. The arena would be filled with enemies, even with the number of us on the side of the Second Rebellion. Putting Cato and I in the arena together was a dangerous gamble, especially with the Career Districts being so fond of us, but Beetee had assured us that it was a risk that needed to be taken. Of course, we weren't going in without help, but it was still dangerous even with Beetee and many others on our side.

Sugar clapped her hands together, drawing me away from my inner musings. My eyes flittered around the town square nervously. There were entirely too many Peacekeepers here for my comfort, and standing near Mama I could see Bran with his fists clenched and a glare on his face as he stared at our escort as she recited why the Hunger Games were needed and then showed us a video further confirming it. When the video was over, she continued to preach about the necessity of the Hunger Games and then emphasized how humble we should be because we were protected by the Capitol. Amongst the crowd I could hear murmurs of dissent and I sent Bran a pleading look. The last thing we needed right now was a riot. That could endanger everything.

"Right! First up the ladies," Sugar trilled, wiggling her fingers excitedly but the smile on her face lacked any real warmth or emotion. In fact, it looked more melancholy than anything else. She withdrew a slip of paper, "Larka Everhill!"

Even her voice lacked any of the pep that was usually there. I stepped next to her, my eyes falling on the anguished faces of District 3's people. It was to no one's surprise then, when Beetee was selected as the male tribute but that didn't stop the cries of shock and outrage. We were quickly ushered into the Justice Building, but unlike usual weren't allowed to say goodbye to anyone before we were moved onto the train. I curled up on the couch, leaning most of my weight on Beetee who was staring unseeingly at the cabinet full of wine in front of us. Off to the side Wiress was muttering something underneath her breath and behind her I could see Aven pacing. We had known that this would happen, but it still couldn't prepare us for the emotional turmoil or the consequences of our actions. Beetee patted my knee and I glanced up at him.

"For now, let's discuss strategies," he said. "Aven?"

"I did the research as you told me to," Aven said with a roll of his eyes. "The biggest threats will obviously be the Careers, maybe even District 11. But if you can make allies with the right people it shouldn't prove too difficult." He crossed his arms over his chest, "If the female tribute from Two is who I think it is, the two of you will need to be very careful. Especially if she's around Gloss."

"You're thinking it is Raven Sevina, Victor of the 68th Hunger Games and Clove's sister," Beetee murmured.

Aven nodded, "Correct." He sighed, "She'll be dangerous and she won't give a damn about anyone else except herself and Gloss."

"Gloss?" I questioned, tilting my head. "Are they together?"

"Possibly," Beetee was the one to answer me. I felt him shrug, "At this point it is nothing more than speculation, but on the rare event that Victors are together, it cannot be denied that the two of them are oddly close. She's reluctant to interact with anyone else, but stick her and Gloss together and they are nearly inseparable."

I pursed my lips, "So if those two are together in the arena, they'll be dangerous. More so, than Gloss and Cashmere."

"Exactly," Beetee nodded. "If Aven's fears are right, then the Games are much more difficult than we thought they would be. But, you likely won't be her target until later since you are connected to Cato, and she doesn't appear to blame you for Clove's death. That blame will fall on Katniss."

"So, Katniss will be her target."

"And anyone associated with Katniss."

I scowled. That included me, since we were supposed to be protecting Katniss so that she eventually could get to District 13. A task much more difficult than it seemed, because Katniss couldn't know until the very last minute. And even then, it was still a risk, because if there was one thing that Katniss sucked at it was keeping her cool. She was easy to rile, and she didn't have a poker face – she probably didn't even know what a poker face was.

Beetee patted my knee, mistaking my silence for trepidation. In a way, perhaps it was. "Everything will work out Larka, you don't need to worry."

It was odd, seeing Beetee attempt to be comforting and it made a smile appear on my face. "Thank you, Beetee. But, I'm not all that worried. Just nervous, and wary for Katniss's actions. She isn't the most rational being."

"And that is why, I will try to befriend her and you will stay as far away from her as possible," Beetee told me. But the secret meaning in his words was clear: _She is the figurehead of the Rebellion but you are the heart. We cannot lose both of you, least of all to each other._

"Got it." I fidgeted a little in my seat, "Then am I correct in my assumption that I stick to Cato?"

"Like glue," Beetee confirmed. "He'll protect you, and can help you learn to protect yourself."

I sighed, "I don't like you befriending Katniss." This I was just saying because you could never know if President Snow was listening in. "But then again, you probably don't like my allying with Cato, either."

Beetee smiled, "It's of little consequence now, Larka."

The hours on the train passed by slowly, and as bizarre as it was I couldn't wait until we got to the Capitol. Anticipating the Hunger Games was not something that I normally would have done, in fact if the circumstances were normal I'd be dreading it, but the circumstances were not normal and this was the 75th Hunger Games – the Third Quarter Quell, where everything was designed to be as hellish as possible. Besides, the closer we got to the Capitol, the closer we'd be to getting to District 13 and the closer I'd be to Cato. In District 3, my relationship with Cato was something my brother and I talked about often. In particular he had raised concerns that I was perhaps a little too dependent on Cato, which was an idea that I denied vehemently. It wasn't that I depended on him or needed him around me, but he was one of the few people that I knew – and liked – that actually understood what I went through in the Hunger Games. It didn't hurt that we were romantically involved, either.

I brought my knees up to my chest, my eyes watching Aven carefully before going to Wiress who was babbling something to Beetee. I yawned, resting my cheek on my knees. It wasn't that late in the day, but for whatever reason I was so inexplicably exhausted that I could fall asleep within moments if I really tried to.

It was nearing four o'clock when we started to head toward the Capitol. Aven sat down on the floor at my feet, the remote for the TV in his hand and I tensed when the TV flickered on. The Reapings went by slowly, and a pit of discomfort settled itself in my stomach. As Aven had predicted Gloss and Cashmere became tributes for One, Cato and Enobaria – I was pleased that Raven wasn't there – became the tributes for Two, Finnick and Mags were tributes for Four, Johanna Mason was Seven's tribute, and of course to no one's surprise Katniss and Peeta were chosen for Twelve.

Just from the Reaping alone, I could see that the biggest threats would be Gloss, Cashmere, and Enobaria. They'd undoubtedly form the very small Career alliance – although the very existence of such an alliance was highly unlikely – and because they were Career tributes they'd be the deadliest, aside from Cato, Finnick and perhaps Katniss. Peeta was strong and capable, but like me he didn't seem to have the killer instinct that everyone else did. Peeta was much too kindhearted for the Games, something that I had realized when we were in the arena together.

"Larka, tell me who you think the biggest threats are and who you'd like to ally with," Aven said, tipping his head back to look at me.

"I think that you already know," I told him. Even though we were part of the rebellion and ultimately our goal was to help Katniss get out of the Capitol's reach, I couldn't declare her an ally. That would raise suspicions. Aven gave me a blank look and I sighed. "Threats are Gloss, Cashmere, and obviously, Enobaria. Cato and Finnick too, but I think we both know that Cato won't hurt me and neither will Finnick." I leaned against the arm of the couch, "So then you know who I'd want to ally with and that would be Cato."

"Of course, I just thought I would check and make sure," Aven answered cheekily, a teasing smile on his face. "Things could have changed. The world is unpredictable, Larka."

"The only thing unpredictable is human nature. The world has order to it, but it is the nature of humans that make it so unpredictable because often people don't follow the logic and order of the world." I smiled as Aven gave me an impressed look.

"Perhaps."

At my side I heard Beetee sigh. "As fascinating as that little spiel was Larka, it is of no consequence now. We need to focus on the Hunger Games, and you need to focus on getting Cato to train you."

"You really think he would refuse?"

"No. But it can't hurt to be certain."

Indeed. In this life we led, certainties were rare but they were something that we needed. So, I would do my best to make sure that Cato would train me. God only knows how much I needed it.


	21. Chapter Nineteen

**T** he train pulled into the Capitol and it was easy to hear the large cheers of the people. It made me sick that they all still thought that this was some sort of game. They didn't realize that they were playing with peoples' lives, that they were taken lives. Even if they did realize that, they probably didn't care. Why would they? The people of the Districts meant nothing to the Capitol; if we did, perhaps we would be treated better.

The doors slid open and Wiress and Aven were the first ones out. It didn't surprise me that at Aven's appearance there were a lot of screams. In many ways, he and Finnick were alike; both known as the heartthrobs of the Capitol. The only difference was that as far as anyone knew Aven had never had any relations with people in the Capitol while Finnick did; although he had told us it wasn't by choice. Then Beetee stepped out of the car. There were still a lot of cheers but not as many as there had been for Aven. I hovered inside the train my heart pounding in my chest before ducking my head and stepping onto the platform. Beetee seized my wrist, drawing me to his side in what I recognized as a comforting gesture.

Flashes of cameras went off and the screams were nearly deafening. It took all of my willpower to not place my hands over my ears or run to the nearest elevator to get away from the chaos. Through the crowd I could barely discern the shapes of other tributes being ushered away and I thought I could see Cato's hulking figure but I wasn't too sure. The people crowded us in on all sides as our escort, Sugar, led us toward where we would be prepped for the chariots. The chariots were always something that I dreaded. It was like they were presenting us as lambs for the slaughter, which in a way they were. It was something that couldn't be helped, but it didn't mean that I disliked it any less.

Like last year, the stylists plucked every piece of hair off of our bodies. I could feel the thick brush combing through my unruly hair, and my skin burned as they practically scrubbed it raw as if they were trying to rid it of the scars that littered my back. Scars that the Capitol even with all of its medicine couldn't seem to get rid of. My stylist from last year came in, Palla, and I smiled gratefully at her pleased that I was able to see her again. But the smile quickly evaporated when she narrowed her eyes at me and pursed her lips.

I hadn't been expecting a warm welcome but I had at least thought I would get a smile. Instead, it seemed that Palla was mad at me if the glare on her face was any indication.

"You are a stupid, stupid girl," she chided me. "Being in the Hunger Games, honestly," she huffed shaking her head.

"It wasn't like I had a choice," I answered good-naturedly but my façade of calm didn't fool her because she just arched an eyebrow unimpressed and huffed again. I sighed, "So what are you dressing me in this year?"

"Something spectacular that will undoubtedly be overshadowed by Cinna and District 12," Palla rolled her eyes. "But I shall endeavor to do my best."

"That's the spirit."

She slapped the back of my head, "Hush and let me work in peace."

Obediently I fell silent. My relationship with Palla had always been unorthodox, and I regarded her as a friend rather than just a Capitol stylist. I closed my eyes, concentrating on my breathing. I knew that as soon as I stepped onto the chariot, that I would begin to get overwhelmed and I couldn't afford to have a panic attack in front of the Capitol. That would count me out as a contender in the Games altogether and expose my weaknesses to the other competitors. That was assuming that they didn't know already.

Fabric slithered over my sensitive skin making me shiver and goosebumps arise on my flesh. Gently Palla tapped me on the arm, murmuring something in a soft, lilting tone as to not startle me and reluctantly I allowed my eyes to flutter open. Giving me an uncharacteristically gentle smile, she helped me to my feet. My feet slipped into the gladiator sandals that she had left on the floor and she slowly turned me so that I could see my reflection in the mirror. Soft fabric in the form of a bandeau covered my chest, and wiring came from the front and the sides to connect to a hi-low skirt that was primarily teal in color but was webbed and outlined with wiring. I felt uncomfortable with my stomach being so exposed but I couldn't deny that while the outfit was unusual, it was beautiful and I couldn't hope for anything better. Palla had done her best.

Elegant curls tumbled down my back, and my eyes were outlined in black to make them look even more striking. I ran my hands down the front of the skirt, my fingers almost catching on the wiring.

"You did well Palla."

"Of course, I did, Larka. I'm not an aamateur." Palla sniffed, sounding offended but I knew that she really wasn't. Her eyes softened, "The chariots will be starting soon."

"I know."

But I made no move to get up. Palla gave me a pointed look and slowly I trailed after her out to where the chariots were waiting. Compared to last year, the atmosphere was more somber and tense. Any voices that spoke were quiet, and instead of milling about, the tributes stuck close to their chariots. Well, except for Finnick but he was an exception to most rules or societal constraints. Finnick leaned his hip against the wiring of our District 3 chariot, popping a sugar cube into his mouth.

"You look great," Finnick told me sincerely, a genuine smile appearing on his tanned face. "Do the wires light up?"

"I have no idea," I shrugged while Palla gave a noncommittal shrug. "And your outfit is certainly interesting."

Carefully placed netting that covered his groin, was all that he wore and while it normally would have made me flush I found that I didn't care all that much. Finnick smiled cheekily, "It is, isn't it? Just the outfit I wanted, too. I wonder how they knew."

"It's because you are Finnick Odair," I rolled my eyes, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around his middle.

He laughed returning the hug before releasing me and gently shoving me toward Beetee. "You two talk. I've got a little birdie to charm."

I turned, watching him head over to Katniss and Peeta who looked much more terrifying than the rest of us. No doubt, Cinna had something up his sleeve for the outfits that would outshine the rest of us like Palla suspected. But it didn't matter. We weren't new tributes to the Games, we were all Victors and we were bound to have some hardcore supporters that wouldn't change to another tribute.

I turned away as Finnick began talking to Katniss, and my eyes drifted toward Cato who was leaning against District 2's chariot, his arms crossed intimidatingly over his chest and his icy blue eyes locked on me. While his disposition looked intimidating, his gaze held nothing but warmth as he gazed at me and it made my entire body tingle and thrum. He arched a blond brow, amusement heavy on his face when my cheeks colored. I looked away from him down at my feet as Beetee gently seized my wrist and helped me step up onto the chariot.

"Ready?" Beetee asked me.

I smiled wanly as the cheers of the Capitol reached us. "No. I don't think that I ever will be."

Then we were rolling forward to the cheers and exultations of the Capitol. I plastered a fake smile on my face and raised my hand up in a semblance of a wave. _You can do this Larka,_ I thought. Just fool the Capitol for a little longer and then we'll be in District 13. Fake a smile and don't get killed; that was all I could hope to do. As I looked toward President Snow, I knew that it wouldn't be that easy. The old man was a lot smarter than he appeared. He had to be, to stay in power for so long.

The chariots jolted forward, and I momentarily lost my balance but Beetee quickly wrapped an arm around my waist, steadying me. The roars from the Capitol grew loud as the chariot rolled out into their sight and I paled, the previously healthy flush on my cheeks giving way to a white pallor that made me look sickly.

"Breathe," Beetee whispered into my ear, waving carelessly in the direction of the people.

I took a steadying breath. "Okay."

I can do this.


	22. Chapter Twenty

**I** couldn't do this.

It was a realization I came to as the chariots headed back the way that we had come and on shaky legs, I stepped off nearly crumpling to the ground if Cato hadn't shot forward, his arms wrapping around my waist and keeping me anchored. His breath was hot on my neck and I tried to shove away from him but I didn't have the energy to. My stomach rolled with nausea and bile rose in my throat. My heart stuttered in my chest and tears sprung to my eyes. All I could see as I stared at the ground were flashes of the 74th Hunger Games – the Reaping and the dread I felt when I was Reaped, the first chariot ride, training, the interviews, the actual Games and the Bloodbath, my first kill and worst of all the flash of teeth as the mutts tore into me and the memory of Katniss and Peeta doing nothing, not even when Cato jumped down to help me.

It was like I could feel the teeth tearing through my skin and muscle all over again and I was only vaguely aware that I was shaking and that tears were rolling down my face. I could feel myself being lowered to the ground and that Cato's face appeared in my field of vision, concerned blue eyes boring into my face as he smoothed the hair away from my face, his touch unsurprisingly gentle. I rubbed at my eyes, but it did nothing to stave off the tears. Cato's hand was warm against my cold, clammy skin and I flinched when he leaned toward me but relaxed when he just rested his forehead against mine.

Distantly, I thought that I could hear the chatter of the other tributes and the mocking laughs of Gloss, Cashmere, and Enobaria. I blinked and then realized that I wasn't in the arena being attacked by mutts or having to watch Clove die. I was in the Capitol, as a tribute for the Third Quarter Quell. But I wasn't in the arena that haunted my dreams and my waking hours. For now, I was safe.

"Come on," Cato said, lifting me up in his arms, cradling me gently against his chest. "Let's go to the roof."

I didn't answer, too busy staring at my hands out of embarrassment to acknowledge what he had said. Once we arrived on the roof and were without all of the eyes and scrutiny, I felt like I could finally breathe. Cato didn't relinquish his grip on me, and for that I was grateful. While I was more at ease now, but I wasn't confident that I could stand on my own yet. The lights of the Capitol were entirely too bright and I turned my head away from them, my eyes meeting landing on Cato's cobalt gaze.

"I'm fine," I took a deep breath and tried to smile. But he didn't look like he believed me. I fidgeted in his arms, suddenly aching to stand on my own two feet and with a quirk of his lips and amusement in his eyes, Cato gently released me. I rocked back on my heels, "I'm okay now, Cato. Promise."

He sighed, thumb stroking my cheek gently as he cradled my face in his hands. "I wish you weren't going back into the arena. You aren't ready."

"I don't have a choice, Cato," I told him, leaning into his warmth briefly before taking a step away from him to clear my head. "I was Reaped and Wiress wasn't, and our other female Victors are entirely too old. It was for the best that I entered the arena again."

Cato growled, his eyes narrowing at me. Then he sighed, the tension fading from his body as his shoulders hunched. "I just worry for you. I worry for how you will fare when we get back in the arena."

I didn't need to tell him that I feared how I would react in the arena as well, because I think he already knew that. I sighed, "It's too late to change anything now, Cato." My eyes moved to the door over his shoulder. "We should head back inside. Rest. Training starts tomorrow after all."

Cato huffed, but willingly followed me back inside where we eventually went our separate ways. Stepping into my bedroom on Three's floor, I released a huge sigh. Training would start tomorrow. Then we'd see how ready I was for the arena.

I met Beetee at the elevator early the next morning, after eating a meager breakfast. We had decided to coordinate our outfits to show a united front, but we had also agreed that if a chance came for one of us and not the other we would take it. It was all part of Thirteen's plan to get Katniss safely out of the arena, and who were we to argue? These Games were part of something so much bigger than just us; it was stupid to put the goal of the resistance in jeopardy. We were one of the early ones to arrive in the training center, that day. The only others that were there were Cato, Finnick, and Johanna – coincidentally all three were part of the resistance formed by Thirteen, just like Beetee and I were.

Cato padded over to me, lacing his fingers with mine and tugging me away from Beetee who only gave me a small smile and turned to converse quietly with Finnick. Though their voices were quiet, I could perfectly hear what they were saying. It was small talk, nothing of much importance and to anyone watching it would appear innocent. Just one Victor inquiring about how another Victor was. Johanna stayed away from us, her eyes roving around the room calculatingly. Slowly, more tributes started to arrive and as the time began to pass I began to grow more anxious and tense, something that did not go unnoticed by Cato.

Unlike last year, we weren't told about the training center or about the rules. As Atala – a woman who was in charge of the center – told us, "You all are Victors. You should know the drill". That was that and we were dismissed to go our separate ways. Beetee gave me a quick look and moved to the survival stations, while Cato dragged me over to weapons. Abruptly Cato let go of my hand, spinning around to face me, his eyes harder and his face irritatingly void of emotion. His eyes roved up and down my body, surveying me with a critical eye.

"You're built similar to," he hesitated and then continued, "Clove." He took a step away from me, "You're small and light, and there isn't enough time for you to build up muscle mass for you to be able to wield a sword or an axe effectively. Daggers would be a good bet for you, or a kukri or a stiletto. Something that doesn't require a lot of strength."

Cato turned around to the table of weapons behind him. I watched him silently as he sifted through the assortment of blades, trying to find one that would fit me. I couldn't offer any words of wisdom; I was hopeless at weapons. That was why Beetee and I had agreed, that it would be best if I spent some – or most – of my training time with Cato, learning how to defend myself. I had managed last year, but only barely and it was through sheer dumb luck that Cato and I had survived. The mutts should have killed us. It was only the intervention of the Capitol that saved us. Cato spun back around, holding two daggers with long slender blades that ended in a needle-like point.

He handed them to me and unsurely I grasped the hilt. "These are stilettos." He turned around and grabbed another blade handing it to me. "This is a kukri." The kukri's blade curved inward, and was rather wide; it looked far more intimidating than the stilettos in my hand. Cato pursed his lips staring at me, "Definitely not the kukri." He eyed me with the stilettos, "Put those down, and let me see if there is anything else."

I nodded obediently, walking up to his side and setting the stilettos on the table. The next blades that Cato handed me were a little bigger. The blade was as long as my forearm, and a small cross-guard to allow easier maneuverability (at least that's what Cato said). It seemed, that these were the ones for me, as Cato had nothing bad to say about them and didn't move off to search for a different weapon, and instead began teaching me how to use them. We spent an hour and a half learning how to use the butterfly blades in a variety of diverse ways, with Cato even mixing in some hand-to-hand combat.

Normally, a trainer would be the one supposed to teach the tribute, but Cato and I weren't breaking any rules because we weren't sparring against each other. He was teaching me, by having me fight against a practice dummy. After spending a sufficient time on the butterfly blades, Cato moved on to teaching me how to use the stilettos (we spent an hour on that), the kukri (forty-five minutes), ballistic knives (one hour), and a cutlass (forty minutes). We had just finished with the cutlass, when we were called for lunch. Cato gently took the sword from me, and grabbed my hand pulling me after the other tributes as we gathered for lunch.

I sat beside Cato, nibbling at a buttered bun, while he and Beetee talked. Johanna was sitting quietly by Finnick, a hollowed look in her eyes and didn't say anything as she spooned mashed potatoes into her mouth. Finnick, as per usual, was jovial and loud and did his best to make Johanna and I feel at ease.

"You taught her some weapons, I hope," Beetee murmured, catching Finnick's and Johanna's attention.

"Weapons?" Johanna asked interested. "So she won't be completely helpless then."

Cato nodded, wrapping his arm around my waist. "She's learned to use butterfly knives, stilettos, a kukri, ballistic knives, and a cutlass. She also learned a little hand-to-hand combat."

Beetee sent me a proud look, "Good."

"I'm not completely useless after all," I managed a smile, dipping my bun into gravy and taking a small bite.

"You never were useless, Larka. You managed to survive in the arena," Beetee told me and I couldn't help the small flinch. "Enough about that. I suppose, we must discuss our alliance."

"Indeed," Finnick agreed. "Cato and Larka should stay together, because if they aren't I feel like they will only be distracted, and Johanna would have no patience to protect Larka and Beetee." Johanna nodded her head in agreement with what Finnick just said and the Victor from Four sighed, "And Cato and Larka coming with me wouldn't be the best idea, since I plan to align myself with Katniss and Peeta, somehow with Mags."

"Since I won't be in the Career pack, they will try to take me out," Cato murmured. "Enobaria will be out for revenge and Gloss and Cashmere will follow her lead, but those two will also be running their own agenda. If they can help Enobaria get rid of me, they'll turn on her and then they'll go after the rest of you."

Johanna glanced over her shoulder where Districts 1 and 2 were gathered, with the exception of Cato who was sitting with us. "We will need to be careful then. But that doesn't change our strategies – Beetee and I will go one way, Finnick and his allies the other, and Cato and Larka will go somewhere else as well." She got to her feet, "Great strategy session guys, really good work. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other things I'd like to do with my life – like plot to kill everyone in this room."

"She's a ray of sunshine, isn't she?" Finnick chirped, getting to his feet as well. "I should probably make sure that she doesn't actually try to kill anyone."

With the Victor from Four gone, it was just Beetee, Cato, and I left at the table. But then lunch was over and we headed back into training. My heart pounded in my chest, as we moved toward more weapon stations. Three more days to train, and then the Games would be nearly here and we'd be on a race against time to get Katniss away from the Capitol and to Thirteen. First, we had to make sure that we survived the Bloodbath.


	23. Chapter Twenty-One

**F** our days had quickly passed, and during those last three days of training, Cato had pushed me as hard as he could. We spent two days straight working with the butterfly knives, the stilettos, and close combat. The last day of training, we went through the revival stations, refreshing my memory and teaching Cato. Yesterday, had been the private session with the Gamemakers and the score I had gotten was an improvement compared to last year, when I had gotten a nine. This year, I had managed a ten, Cato an eleven, while Katniss and Peeta had both gotten twelve. The Gamemakers had clearly marked those two as targets, so Enobaria, Gloss, and Cashmere would more than likely go after them first. Then Cato would be their next target, but that was something to worry about if and when the time came.

I yawned, walking into the kitchen where Beetee, Aven, and Wiress were eating a quiet breakfast. Palla, Beetee's stylist, and our escort were notably absent. I sat at the table by Wiress, and grabbed a slice of toast spreading peanut butter and jelly over it. At first it was quiet; the only sounds came from the food we were eating and the scrape of utensils against plates. But eventually that silence was broken when Aven spoke.

"The two of you are faring well," Aven commented looking between Beetee and I. "That is nothing out of the ordinary, however, considering that you aren't untrained and these aren't your first Hunger Games."

"Correct," Beetee murmured. "Hopefully, they will be our last. But Quarter Quells are always surprising, so they might not be."

"I thought when I won, that I wouldn't have to enter the Hunger Games again. Perhaps we were wrong," Aven agreed, but then didn't say anything else on the subject.

I didn't speak at all, as they turned to strategies and talking about getting sponsors for the Games. I heard Aven mention that because of his association with me, people were more willing to help out Beetee, and Aven also added that there were a horde of sponsors waiting for me should I need them. The talk of sponsors only reminded me, that to the Capitol this was just a Game and nothing more. We weren't people to them, we were entertainment. No matter how much they acted like they liked us or even loved us, but they didn't – not really. We were pawns, pieces in a game. They used us until we had no use and then they discarded us like we didn't matter; it seemed to the Capitol, that some of the Victors, had served their purposes and were no longer needed. President Snow, also probably wanted to get rid of Katniss and Peeta and the easiest way to do that was through putting them back into the arena.

"Interviews are tonight," Aven's words drew me from my thoughts. "Are the two of you prepared?"

"As prepared as we can be, I'm sure," I murmured, taking a sip of orange juice.

"Good. The interviews will be what determines your sponsors," Aven told us. "It was your interview last year, that kept you alive for as long as you were, Larka." Aven sighed, "Be charming, but don't forget to be who you really are."

"We're not novices, Aven," I reminded him gently. I looked around the kitchen, seeing that our stylists had come in without us noticing. "I suppose that we should go prepare for the interviews now."

"Yes," Aven nodded. "Good luck."

For the next couple of hours, Palla and her assistants spent a copious amount of time, washing me of any dirt and making sure that my hair was shiny and lustrous (their words, not mine). They painted my nails, and then the assistants left leaving me alone with Palla. Palla helped me dress in the intricately woven dress that I would wear for my interview, and added the finishing touches on my hair and makeup. It was bittersweet to think that this could be the last time I would be sitting in this chair. The only reason that it was bittersweet, was because I would miss Palla.

Palla set a circlet on my hair, and then drew me over to the full-length mirror without saying a word. My eyes widened as I stared at the girl in the mirror. Me.

My hair was curled into ringlets, cascading down my back. The royal blue dress clung to my figure, and looking closer I could see that there were bits of wiring cleverly woven into the fabric. The circlet adorning my head on the surface looked perfectly normal, but looking closer there were bits of wiring and circuitry and I wondered if Palla had done something to make the outfit stand out. I remember last year, when she had been upset that we had been outshone by Cinna and District 12. The makeup on my face was minimal, and only highlighted my best features like my eyes and lips.

"You are going to stun them," Palla told me her voice soft. She gently touched the hair resting on my shoulders, "I want you to get as many sponsors as you can, Larka."

"I'm going to try," I told her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "But with Twelve, it will be hard."

"I know." A smile caused her lips to minutely tug upwards. "But, you are also a Victor now. For that reason alone, people will be itching to throw money behind you. You aren't one to be counted out, and your training score proves that."

I nodded, touched by her words but inwardly believed that my training score wouldn't make a different. What was the worth of a ten, when compared to two twelves? I sighed, looking down at my lap. The likelihood that I would have sponsors now seemed pretty low, even though I had done well. My results paled in comparison to Katniss and Peeta.

"Don't fret, Larka," Palla said. "You'll have enough sponsors."

 _Doubtful._

But I didn't voice that thought aloud. Instead I plastered a fake smile on my face and nodded, pretending that I believed what she said. Pretending that I believed that everything was going to go perfectly but knowing full well that it wouldn't.

When the time for my interview came, I was a bundle of nerves. I had watched the interviews of Gloss, Cashmere, Enobaria, and Cato, and was stunned by how calm and collected they could seem in the face of another Games. Obviously, resentment was simmering under the surface but they did a good job of hiding it, even with the careful verbal barbs that they threw that made the Capitol audience gasp and titter as if just realizing that their beloved Victors would be going into the arena and that only one of them would be coming out. Beetee helped me onto the stage, and I sat myself down beside Caesar smiling genteelly at him.

"It's a pleasure to see you again Larka, and to see you looking in much better health," Caesar Flickerman simpered with a smile, no doubt remembering the post-Game interview where I had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Yes, well I'm feeling much better now. It's because of the Capitol's generousness," I murmured my voice soft and unsure. "I'm sad, that I will never get to know the generosity of the Capitol anymore."

"Why ever not?" He asked as if he was confused.

"Because I'm going back into the arena, only this time I don't think I'll come out alive." I picked at the soft fabric of my skirt.

"So, you believe there is no hope for you then?"

"There is always hope. But I'm facing people that have been Careers and won, and who have been alive much longer than I have. They are more well-trained than I. I'll still do my best, so don't count me out. I'll make sure that I'm unforgettable." I did my best to smile charmingly, and heard the Capitol beginning to talk amongst itself and the coos and whimpers of the women in the audience fighting back tears.

Then I was dismissed. As I headed backstage, I felt that my interview performance was incredibly lackluster and would no doubt be outshone by Peeta or Katniss. But, that was exactly the point, wasn't it? Be memorable, but not too memorable. The focus needed to be on Katniss anyways if the Rebellion had any hope of kindling into something brighter than a small flame.

We needed to become a wildfire.

As much as I hated to admit it, only Katniss could do that. But I wasn't going to be a pawn; I had an important part to play too.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Two

**T** hat night I slept fitfully, because the next day we would be going into the arena. In the morning, I dressed slowly and followed Palla to the hovercraft where we would be taken to the Launch Room. Once there, I changed my clothes and dressed in the fitted black jumpsuit made of sheer material that was half-an-inch thick with zippers down the front. The suit came with a padded belt covered in black plastic which was filled with a purple gel which Palla informed me could be used as a flotation device. The shoes were nylon with rubber soles, and fit my feet snugly.

"It will have water," I murmured. "I don't know how to swim."

Palla sighed, "Then I wish you the best of luck, Larka. I'm rooting for you."

"Thank you."

I stepped onto the launch pad, my heart pounding in my chest and the roar of blood echoing in my ears. This could be my final moment with Palla. Hell, this could be my final moment alive if I drowned or fell in the Bloodbath. Palla smiled, waving at me before the pad began to move and suddenly I was in the arena. Waves lapped gently against the pedestal, and my hands clenched into fists as my eyes roved around the circle of gathered tributes. Across from me, almost hidden by the Cornucopia was Cato and I could see that his eyes were watching me just like I was watching him. Next to Cato was Beetee, and not too far away from the both of them were Finnick, Johanna, and Peeta. I assumed Katniss to be hidden by the Cornucopia.

Looking to my sides, I saw that I was surrounded by people who I could only consider enemies – Enobaria, Gloss, and Cashmere. Enobaria smirked at me, baring her teeth in a ferocious grin and I paled. I didn't think I was going to make it out of here alive. My eyes turned from my competitors to the Cornucopia, as I tried to discern what weapons were there. But from this distance I couldn't tell. My only hope would be to get to the Cornucopia before anyone else could.

The chances of that happening seemed unlikely.

The bell toll sounded and then the Games began. I hovered anxiously on my pedestal as everyone either dove into the water or leapt onto the craggy rocks leading to the Cornucopia. After a moment of hesitation, I jumped off, my feet slipping and sliding on the wet rocks and then I was sprinting toward the Cornucopia as fast as I could. It wasn't fast enough, since I was trying to keep my balance, and by the time I got there the Victors were facing off against each other. Cato was locked in combat with Cashmere, while I could see Gloss going after Katniss who had a bow. Cato knocked Cashmere away from him, driving her toward the water.

I rushed past the male Morphiling from District 5, as Woof attacked him. Any camaraderie that had existed between the Victors before was gone now. I grabbed a backpack, whirling around just as the male from Five rushed me. I backpedaled away from him, shrieking as he slashed at me with a machete, raising the bag in front of me as a meager form of defense. The machete sliced through the bag of the fabric like butter and vital supplies like food and medicine tumbled to the ground.

The male from Five advanced on me, pressing me toward the mouth of the Cornucopia. And then my saving grace arrived – Cato. He descended on Five like an avenging angel, knocking the offender away from me, a deadly grace in his movements and a murderous look in his eyes. With the male from Five sufficiently occupied by Cato, I made a grab for another bag and as fast as I could I packed the items from the ripped bag into the new one I had grabbed.

I straightened up, eyes scanning around the Cornucopia for weapons – I definitely couldn't remain defenseless. A cannon boomed, making me jump and I streaked toward the mouth of the Cornucopia beginning to rifle for weapons. My fingers curled around the hilt of a familiar knife, and eagerly I pulled out several sets of butterfly knives and stilettos. Rising to my feet, I quickly armed myself and then was jogging toward Cato with the backpack slung over one shoulder. He turned, hearing me come up behind him and minutely his stance relaxed.

"Get into the jungle, I'll be right behind you," he told me.

I nodded quickly, leaping across the craggy rocks until I was on the beach, just miles away from the jungle. It was only moments before Cato joined me, two more backpacks in his grasp and a cut on his cheek. A cannon boomed and our eyes darted toward the tributes still fighting around the Cornucopia, and a few that had made their way to the beach.

"Go."

I obeyed without question. I didn't want to stay around the other tributes any longer than necessary. Periodically as we headed deeper into the forest, I glanced over my shoulder fearing that other tributes were following us with the goal to pick us off. Cato nudged me roughly, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Relax, we aren't being followed Larka," he told me. "If we were, I would know."

"Because you're from Two?"

"No. Because they'd be making a lot of noise." He squeezed my shoulder gently. "Relax."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered. "You scored an eleven in training, and you technically are still a Career. You have an advantage over us from lowly District 3."

"You won the 74th Hunger Games too, Larka. You're just as equipped as the rest of us are. There is no sense in belittling your victory or yourself, just because you feel helpless." His words were slightly harsh but they held some merit, and so I fell quiet.

In a sense, he was right. I shouldn't be acting as if this was my first Hunger Games, because even though it didn't feel like it, I had been one of the Victors of the 74th Hunger Games. I was just as capable as any participant here, except for perhaps Gloss, Cashmere, or Enobaria who had the ruthlessness that I very much lacked.

"Find a place to rest, and then we'll come up with a strategy," Cato said.

Right. We needed to get Katniss out of the arena and to District 13. I had almost forgotten about that. I swallowed, looking down at the ground. The Mockingjay came first, and if the rest of us died while getting her out, District 13 wouldn't care.

We were just collateral damage.


End file.
